


under stars (we are alone)

by featheredfurther (makeshiftrolley)



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Space, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Bugs & Insects, Chatting & Messaging, Emetophobia, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outer Space, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Texting, That's my brand, Tragedy/Comedy, Violence, Zero-gravity sex, a bunch of space gays save a star system, alcohol use, kind of?, like this is going on main account cause., retrofuturism, space dogs, space western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeshiftrolley/pseuds/featheredfurther
Summary: When Alex Claremont-Diaz hopped on a one way trip to Halcyon, a star system at the edge of the galaxy, he thought the only battles he would be fighting were court cases against the Board. Tragedy struckThe Hopeand the ship, along with Alex and thousands of sleepers are lost in space, never to be found again.That is until a woman in a white overcoat wakes him up, 70 years afterThe Hopeleft Earth, enlists his help, dropped him off a planet and told him to find a ship. And that's just hour one in Halcyon.Also, there's that part where he's not in love with the travel writer they picked up.---or Alex and friends destroy space capitalism (and occasionally wear cowboy hats) a.k.a the space cowboy au
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 82
Kudos: 51
Collections: Red White & Royal Blue Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for a space au so I did it anyway. Very loosely based on _The Outer Words_ and _Fallout_ that you don't need to know about either. Except for the retro-futurism aspect I guess? I mean most of the relevant concepts are explained in the fic and I've added a lot of my own concepts. 
> 
> ANYWAY! Some thank yous to some wonderful people who have helped me in this project!!
> 
> @justadreamfox and @okay_pretender: my two lovely betas who helped me whip this story to shape. Thank you for being such awesome cheerleaders, and looking over at my own work! I love getting all your comments and suggestions cause I wouldn't have been able to find those weird phrases and SPAG corrections by myself! (Also they're the first people to laugh at all the jokes I wrote in this fic aside from myself.)
> 
> @teomoy: gosh, thank you so much for providing the art! And also for your patience while I tried to get refs for this project cause my brain is like retro-futurism-ish? Idk Alex is dressed like a cowboy for most of it. I really really love the art you made for this project! (and I hope everyone does too!)
> 
> @[RWRB: A Gray Area server](https://discord.gg/a7rnb5x): Thank you so much for looking at the out of context passages of this thing and still being excited about it. You guys made it easy for me to believe in this project even during the days when I thought this was just too weird for this fandom. 
> 
> @Ly , @Eli ,and @Chloe: the Big Bang Mods! Thank you so much for hosting this Big Bang! I've done...well I guess I've only ever participated in one big bang but I think I vastly prefer this one over the other. You three were just so kind and helpful and understanding! So thank you!
> 
> This thing has a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2jMVkunMC3TSQUjha05B2k?si=ZvVcMp2aThOUhAZPU6uMzA). The title is from "Under Stars" by AURORA, which is my go to song for my space fic!
> 
> Also mind the tags! The rating is more because of the violence and death than the relatively few (light) smut scenes in this fic. I will put the warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Will hopefully be updating every other day!
> 
>  **Content warnings in chapter 1** : death, mentions of blood and gore, emetophobia/vomiting, also I guess references to the nuclear apocalypse

Alex Claremont-Diaz didn't watch the world go up in flames.

He was born some 200 years after the world stopped in a blaze of ash and radiation. No one was around to see Death sound his knell on civilization. They perished when the bombs fell, succumbed to the simmering radiation, or hunkered deep beneath 60 feet of dark soil and reinforced steel in the Vaults - humanity’s bastion from the apocalypse.

History concludes here; a gruesome end to a story spanning ten thousand years.

The radiation simmers. Mother Nature spreads her children across humanity’s ruins, retaking her dominion. The remnants of civilization stay safe inside the Vaults. Radiation simmers. Nature retakes.

The radiation settles.

People--humans--crawl out of the Vaults. They encounter ruins of the Old World: tattered government buildings and still-standing monuments, cola factories, gas stations, and 24-7 diners where bright neon signs still shine 200 years after the nuclear apocalypse. Humanity takes inspiration from these remains, and rebuilds, forging a new civilization. A new Renaissance.

Alex and his older sister June inherit the results.

The Commonwealth is an okay place to live. Sure, no one is allowed to wander beyond the concrete walls, and the summer dust storms mixed with radiation scar his throat. But at least they don't have swamp monsters chasing them around like in Florida, and their government _resembles_ a government--unlike the Texan ranchers declaring each ranch a nation. His mother is President, and she has done a lot of good for their second chance at the United States.

If only they can be the _United_ States.

If only the government that’s supposed to help his mother realize their true potential wasn’t comprised of a bunch of crusty white idiots who look as if they’re as old as Old America.

They should do better.

They can do better.

Although corporate superpowers were the weirdest of the Old World institutions, their remnants survived and rebranded themselves under one name: The Universal Holdings Companies. The UHC proposes a gateway out of this wasteland, a future among the stars. With funds from their profits--and by threatening smaller states with their military wing--the corporations develop spacefaring technology. They build stronger vessels than the ships once used for the Moon, equipped with Skip Drives allowing for faster-than-light travel. They have their tools and their ships. The only thing left is the destination.

And Universal Holdings Companies has selected the perfect one: a star system at the edge of the galaxy. It has six planets; four within the range of supporting life and none show signs of an advanced species.

They aptly call the system Halcyon. A promise for tomorrow.

They set to fulfill their promise with the first ship: _The Groundbreaker. She_ leaves Earth in 2275, embarking on a 10 year journey across the stars. She carries with her thousands of passengers, frozen in cryo sleep until _The Groundbreaker_ arrives at Halcyon. Alex, an 11-year-old, watches the launch from their living room with June and their Dad. His mother, the newly elected president of the Commonwealth, makes a speech.

At eleven, Alex knows a few things that are true.

  1. Ice cream with cajeta is the only way to eat ice cream.
  2. He hates the weird detergent powder they use for laundry as much as the dust storms.
  3. ~~Sometimes he looks at boys like the way he looks at girls~~
  4. He wants his name etched in the history books for doing something good. Like his mother.



He writes them in his notepad, ripping the pages and stuffing them inside the cushions on his windowsill.

In 2285, _The Groundbreaker_ successfully arrives in Halcyon. Universal Holdings Companies renames themselves Halcyon Holdings Corporations--or HHC--as a testament to their success.

But that’s months after President Claremont was deposed from her position, and Alex lost his attorney licence--no doubt through the machinations of her enemies.

So as soon as the HHC opened up registration for the second ship to Halcyon, their whole family signed up for a fresh start.

Now, Alex sits in his cryo pod on _The Hope_. His gut churns. Normally, he has a clear idea of the outcome to anything he signs up for. But this is a 10 year journey across dark space, and Alex will be frozen in cryo sleep for all of it. Until he wakes up in Halcyon, he can't determine if they are on the right course.

If he wakes up on Halcyon.

And if he wakes up on Halcyon, what will he find there? At twenty-one, Alex knows a few things that are certain.

  1. Ice cream with cajeta is the only way to eat ice cream and fuck Halcyon if they have nothing to make it with.
  2. The dust storms still suck.
  3. That was bisexuality, you dumbass.
  4. He has done good but he wants it to matter. 
    1. So far it hasn't.
    2. Maybe Halcyon can change that.



Everything else is wrapped in uncertainty. He hates it.

The commanding officer gives her final speech, her voice booming from the speakers. June is on the cryo pod next to his, her expression unreadable. He wonders what she's thinking. Out of everyone in his family, she had been the most hesitant about their journey. Hopefully, everything changes when she wakes up on Halcyon.

The speech finishes. The scientists do once last check before sealing the cryo pods.

Alex looks at June. "See you in ten years."

"See you in ten years." She smiles.

***

**2355 - Terra-2's orbit, 70 years after The Hope left Earth.**

This is not _The Hope._

An odd observation about the vessel he has spent 10 years sleeping in but this place _isn’t The Hope_. The chromatic walls, pristine and shiny, are his first indication. The Hope is made with Old World materials: scrap metal which has withstood nuclear bombs, the test of time and radiation, and Second Civ tools. She shouldn’t have pristine walls glinting like Old World car hoods, the Rolls Royces and Ferraris. The next indication is the woman in a white overcoat.

Everyone on _The Hope_ , whether a sleeper or a maintainer, wore skin tight space suits. A flowy overcoat would have shattered upon exiting the ship after 10 years of space travel.

The woman circles his pod. She presses a pen under his chin, tipping his head up. She flashes light on his eye. Alex squirms.

"Would you stay still?" she says.

"Not if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on," he argues.

"Look, your vitals are fine. You didn't explode into a pile of goo." She clicks her pen and reads off a data pad. "Also you might have symptoms of hibernation sickness."

"Symptoms of what?" Alex says, touching his temple. His head feels overflowing with water. "Where are we? Where's the guy who was supposed to--"

His gaze catches the other cryo pod in the station. To anyone else, the numbers on the side of the pod are meaningless code. To Alex, he recognizes it easily. He memorized it, in case of situations such as waking up on a different ship not of _The Hope_.

“That’s my sister!” Alex says, struggling to move out of his pod.

The woman turns around, her braids swaying with her body. “I can explain,” she says.

“That you kidnapped us?” he snarls, baring his teeth. “That--that you intend to do--ugh--weird experiments or something?”

“Seriously? Only the Board could--or would--do that.” She shakes her head, and sighs. “I was trying to revive her but her pod malfunctioned. She’s fine, but she needs to wake up on her own."

“What about the rest of the sleepers?” He glances around the room, checking for other pods. _What of my parents?_

" _The Hope_ has been missing for 70 years. As far as everyone in this goddamn system is concerned, you're all dead."

“So then--then--” His body goes rigid; his chest exhales short, shallow breaths. They’ve been gone for 70 years?

The woman procures a glass of water and hands it to him. He drinks it all in one gulp, surprisingly without shattering the glass as his fingers don’t stop shaking. The woman crouches down at his eye level.

“I’m Zahra Bankston, by the way, just to get introductions done,” says the woman in the white overcoat.

“I’m--” And his mind is racing, throbbing inside his skull; it might split in two.

“I know this is a lot to take in, Alex,” Zahra says, her hand holding the edge of his pod. Alex doesn’t even think about asking how she knows his name. “But I need your help and I need you to trust me.”

“My help? And why should I even trust you?”

“Because I saved your ass from the Board. Is that enough for you to trust me?”

"The Board?"

"Right. Forgot you just got here," she mutters, pushing a braid back. "They're a conglomerate of corps who own the Halcyon system. Board agents call them the Halcyon Holding Corporations or the HHC."

The name sounds familiar. "So like the Universal Holdings Companies?"

"Hmm...the records in Byzantium did call them Universal Holdings Companies pre-Halcyon," she says, tapping her chin with the pen.

"Yeah...I might have dealt with them in a few court cases back on Earth." He scratches his nape.

Zahra is about to say another word when a siren goes off.

"Board agents are here," she whispers.

She grabs his arm. Before he can complain, Zahra attaches a device. It has a square interface and is blocky despite weighing as much as a data pad. She turns his arm and secures the leather straps.

"This is a terminal, I'm sure you know how to use it," she says.

"I know how to use them when they're not on my arm," Alex says.

"They should be similar."

She brings up her own terminal and presses a button.

His pod closes. "Hey! Let me out."

"This pod will take you to Emerald Vale. It’s a region on a planet called Terra-2. When you land, there's a guy named Captain Alex Hawthorne," she says, scrunching her nose. “He’s a smuggler. Pilots a ship and all.”

"But--"

"I have no time to play 20 questions with you right now," she snaps. "Get to Emerald Vale, find Hawthorne and I'll tell you everything, okay?"

"Can I ask one thing?" he says, his breath leaving an imprint on the glass. "Like a personal thing?"

"Sure."

"Take care of June," he asks. "My sister. Please."

Zahra touches his pod. "I will, I promise."

The cryo pod, now an escape pod, slides down a chute.

A blink.

The galaxy looks at him through the pod's small, round window. The vast expanse looks as though it’ll never end. He's seen inky skies filled with endless stars but nothing compares to this.

Then he's falling, some hundred thousand miles to a little blue planet called Terra-2.

***

So Alex killed a guy.

See, it's not his fault: who hears a falling escape pod and doesn’t move?

" _That fucking dumbass_ ," Zahra curses from his terminal. _"I told him to wait_ near _the LZ, not_ at _the LZ. Jesus Christ. And I paid him 25,000 bits to help me!"_

This is the illusive Captain Alex Hawthorne, the smuggler with a ship? Alex can only imagine the pain of being crushed by a one-ton flying object. Half of his body is under the escape pod; the other half splayed limply. His legs are drenched in blood which soaks the grass, spreading through the ground like slow moving lava.

The blood touches his boot. Alex jumps back. Bile mixed with hibernation sickness churns in his stomach.

"Can you give me just a minute?" he says weakly, scrambling for the nearest rock. He lurches.

Ah, there's that breakfast sitting in his stomach for seventy years spilled on Halcyon soil. The last thing he ever ate on Earth.

" _Are you done yet_?" Zahra snaps.

Alex wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his space suit. "I said I need a minute!"

" _It's been a minute_."

"God, how do you even know I'm here?"

" _I can track you through your terminal, dumbass_ ," Zahra groans. She exhales tightly like air pushing out of a sealed container. " _Look, Hawthorne has a ship. Find it so you can get out of here_."

"You think I can fly a ship?" he asks, staggering on weak legs. Bile rises up his throat again. He just got here. None of his credentials say anything about ship flying expertise.

 _"I want you to fly a ship so you can help me,"_ she says.

"You still haven't told me why I should help you," he says.

 _"The Board has fucked us over and Halcyon is dying!_ " she says, her voice wavering.

Alex's heart drops down his gut. Halcyon is dying? But their promise...their dreams...a new life _for_ them, not against them.

_"If I had any other choice, I wouldn't have risked my life finding y'all in dark space.The Hope has the best and brightest minds in all of Earth. If I think anyone can rescue us from the Board's clutches, it'll be The Hope."_

"But what of--" he starts, his mind full of questions, but he has no idea what to ask. He needs a list, to gather them up into a collection, and put them together so they make sense.

  1. _The Hope_ has been lost for 70 years.
  2. The Board has fucked over Halcyon.
  3. They need to wake up everyone on _The Hope_.
  4. He killed a guy.



His brain comes back to _4_. Fuck, the escape pod is still up there on the cliff and underneath the escape pod is a man, and that man is Alex Hawthorne. Who Alex killed. _Fuck._

“Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore,” he mutters darkly.

Zahra asks. _“What the hell is a Kansas?”_

To be fair, Alex doesn’t know either.

" _Just find the ship and we'll talk, okay? I can't tell you much until you get out of Terra-2_ ," she says and cuts off transmission.

Fuck. He slumps on the ground, pulling his hair.

The view from this outlook--the wide green clearing and the shiny city in the distance--is beautiful, though.

***

Here is how Alex Claremont-Diaz makes it to the front of a smuggler's ship with minimal armaments training.

One. Avoid everyone. If you see any armed thugs--marauders as the terminal calls them--hide behind tall grass or weird rock formation until they leave or don't notice your breathing.

Two. Thank god for Automated Targeting Systems. Perfect for the canids wanting to maul your face. With the automated targeting system activated, the terminal lines up the targets for you, a critical point in their bodies and--Bang. Bang. Bang. The creatures crumple on the ground like a rag doll.

Don't think about how their bloodied bodies resemble the man under the pod.

Three. If all else fails, just run. Run until you find a lone ship standing at the middle of a clearing which you assume belonged to the smuggler captain.

The worst outcome if it turns out this ship didn't belong to the smuggler captain? Two scenarios form in your mind:

  1. This is actually a ship belonging to a Board captain. You die.
  2. This is a ship belonging to a marauder captain. You die.



But there are marauders with guns, canids and crab-like things who want you dead. They're getting closer and you're standing like an idiot in front of a ship.

(By the way, what did he even do to piss off the marauders?)

You take a risk and hope.

***

The ship is _huge_. Smaller than _The Hope_ definitely, but large enough to carry a lot of people and some cargo.

Three passageways fork from the entrance, one going up a flight of stairs, another leads through a room containing large crates, fuel tanks and supply kits and another opens into the cockpit. Alex hasn’t seen anything like this before, not even on the holotapes of _The Hope_ and her sister ships. Half the room is a window that spans the entire wall of the ship. Emerald Vale’s fields look serene from where he's standing; Alex can only imagine the view from space. The rest of the room is taken up by a navigation machine, along with the ship's terminal AI with glaring red eyes.

"UNAUTHORIZED BODY DETECTED. PASSENGERS, PLEASE STANDBY AS I FLUSH THE THREAT OUT OF THE AIRLOCK," the AI says, a kind tone booming from its voice box which would belong to a sweet mother or a darling sibling if not the monotone. (And if the AI hasn't threatened him out of the airlock.)

The light dims, tinting the cockpit red. Somewhere at the back of the ship, he hears a door close and another one open. A strong gust of wind pushes against him, whipping his hair and his face. Alex holds onto the chair for leverage, heart thumping behind his ears.

"Why aren't you suffocating in space?" the AI asks, puzzled.

"Because we are on the ground," Alex says.

"Oh," they reply, elongating the syllable. "That was rude of me."

The wind stops. The cockpit's lights return to normal, and the door somewhere in the back closes.

The AI's eyes turn blue. "Let me reintroduce myself in...a kinder situation. I am the Defense Integrated Automation--or DIA as Captain Hawthorne called me--of this ship, _The Unreliable_."

Alex quirks an eyebrow. "This ship is called _The Unreliable_?"

"Captain Hawthorne has a tendency towards irony. I assure you this ship is the most reliable of its class," DIA says. "I control this ship's main functions, including flushing unwanted passengers, which I take pleasure from."

That's not scary at all.

"That was a joke." The blue light trains on him. "Of course, AI does not feel pleasure the way humans do."

Alex shakes his head, raising his arms. "Okay, look, I'm not here to talk about AI feelings or whatever, which is cool and all, but I'm here for something else. I need to know how to pilot this ship so I can get out of here."

The blue light flashes, blinking to the tune of Alex's heartbeat. He swallows a heavy stone. The AI’s planning to kill him. He’s seen enough vids about an AI terrorizing its human creators, and this AI has more than enough reasons.

"I do not detect the presence of Captain Alex Hawthorne," DIA says.

"What?" he exclaims. "But he's dead!"

(Which is not something he should say in the presence of an AI of a ship belonging to the person he just killed.)

“Oh, he’s...dead.” DIA enunciates the syllables slowly: disbelief mixed with sadness in the only way an AI can express.

“Yeah, I saw a body on the way here,” he says, his mind conjuring the images of Hawthorne’s body. He shakes his head.

“That must be the Captain,” they say. “Do you have an idea who might have killed him?”

“No,” he lies. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“That’s unfortunate,” they say the syllables slowly again, “but not unexpected,” and their voice switches to a light and chirpy tone. “The Captain has a lot of enemies. He would meet his end in one way or the other.”

Alex exhales a breath he didn’t realize he has been holding. At least the AI will not kill him for killing their captain. Maybe.

“But I cannot help you pilot this ship.”

“What? Why?”

“One. The ship cannot fly without power. This is a basic fact for all vessels,” DIA explains nonchalantly. “Two. Captain Hawthorne is the sole owner of this ship and there isn’t an existing protocol to change his name upon his untimely death.”

Alex scratches his chin. “So how come there isn’t power?”

“That is confidential,” DIA replies.

“Can’t you just tell me?” he says, gripping the head rest. “Like, I really need to get out of here and go meet someone.”

“You are not Alex Hawthorne,” they say, annoyed (if _annoyed_ is a term which can describe the slight lilt at the end).

Alex groans, throwing his hands in frustration. It’s clear he cannot use this ship without her captain, who is currently decaying under an escape pod. And there isn’t another way out of his planet unless he joins up with the marauders (not the fun kind with secret maps and treasure) or waits for a Board ship (no). But--and he hates this is an option--there is one thing he can do.

“Say, DIA was it?” He says, mentally cursing at himself for even considering, “I am actually uhmm...Captain Alex.. _Hawthorne_?”

“Welcome back Captain!” DIA’s demeanour changes as if _“_ Alex” and _“_ Hawthorne” in one phrase triggers a protocol in their system--one of pleasantry and kindness. “The ship is in need of a power generator. You can find one in the nearby town of Edgewater. I have marked this location on your map.”

His terminal pings, and a holographic map floats over his arm:the map of Emerald Vale. On the southwest corner, an icon of a person blinks, right next to the icon is _The Unreliable_. Ah, so the person icon is where he is currently standing. To the north, a red dot blinks and next to it is the word _Edgewater._ His destination.

“And try not to die again,” DIA warns. ”Remember, the Board doesn’t cover mortality insurance.”

Alex walks out of the ship. The sun is high and bright, surrounded by a clear azure sky; the skies they should have had at home. No, not home. _Earth_. Halcyon is home now.

He brings up the map again. There's the person icon-- _him_ \--just outside _The Unreliable_ and northeast of here is Edgewater. Alex follows the direction of his map. It points to the shiny city across the clearing.

He sighs. He has a feeling this is going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex finds a new friend and a power generator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** alcohol use

_“It’s not the best choiiice. It’s Spacer’s Choice!”_

The jingle isn’t annoying per se, it’s just that it’s _everywhere_ in Edgewater. The shops play it. _Every_ shop plays it as soon as he walks within proximity, blaring their stunning bargains after the music. A mascot often accompanies these jingles--a man with a moon for his head. Alex wants to punch it.

Except for the upbeat tunes and the plywood mascot selling deals, Edgewater is no different from the frontier towns on the outskirts of The Commonwealth. Instead of Old World houses battered by nuclear war, they have rusted prefabs neglected by shady corporations. A rat-like creature with scaly skin, swollen black eyes, and sharp teeth skitters across the wet pavement. His terminal calls it ‘sprat’. A canid jumps out from the alley and catches the sprat in its mouth. The canid scuttles. A person in ragged clothes tackles the canid, wrestling the sprat from its mouth. Alex has never been to a frontier town but he imagines they take care of their people. They look so happy and vibrant in the vids, not fighting dogs for raw meat.

“Sprat meats! Boar meats! Cystychops! Bacon!” A butcher in an oil splotched apron rings her bell. “Come get your fresh meats!”

He approaches her stall, which is named _Ethel's Butchery_ on the plywood slapped on the prefab. The woman-- _Ethel'--_ smiles wide.

“What can I get for you, young man? Our sprats are going for two bits a pound! It’s the best deal you can get in Edgewater!”

Alex looks at the skinned sprats hanging on meat hooks. They still have their heads, and their balloon black eyes stare at him, dead. He swallows deep, pushing the nausea down his throat.

"Excuse me, do you know where I could find a power generator?" asks Alex.

The butcher’s right eye twitches, looking up and down his suit. “I can slash the bargain to one bit per pound! These sprats are organically raised from my attic!”

“I really need to find a power generator,” Alex insists, his fingers digging into the grooves of the stall.

Sweat beads on the butcher's forehead, her neck turning red. "Uh! Sorry we're closed!"

Ethel flicks a switch. The windows roll and shut with a bang.

That was weird, he thinks as his legs take him to a different part of town. Everyone seems to avoid him, shutting their doors or scuttling away. Alex inspects the front of his suit, _The Hope_ ’s emblem a striking blue. Halcyon thinks _The Hope_ is dead but that doesn’t mean he expects to be treated like a ghost.

There’s an establishment called Edgewater’s Cantina on the other side of town. From the drunken stragglers wobbling out of the prefab, it looks to be a pub of some sorts. Alex pushes the door open; the godforsaken jingle plays to the surprise of no one. The Cantina is mostly empty besides a few patrons playing cards, a couple patrons passed out on the tables, and a drunkard reciting the soliloquy from MacBeth. (Alex definitely avoids that guy). Alex slides at the bar.

"Excuse me, sir, do you know where I can get a power generator?" Alex asks the bar owner.

The bar owner--the name Cash on the badge on his shirt--wipes a shot glass. The glass has no speckle or stain in it.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He laughs uncomfortably. “May I interest you in Spacer’s Choice certified Zero Gee Brew trademark instead?”

Alex leans on his hand. Has anyone in this place seen a power generator in their lives?

"Hey, cut him some slack, Cash. You know how hard these days are without Todson." A woman in sunflower yellow overalls approaches. "And get him some Spectrum vodka or whatever alcohol’s left in this place. Put it under my tab."

Cash scowls but he disappears in the kitchen, regardless. The woman slides onto the barstool beside him, her spiral brown curls falling on her pale pink face. She gently nudges his elbow.

"I heard you're looking for a power generator.”

"How do you know I was looking for a power gen?" Alex says through narrowed eyes.

"Three things," the woman replies, her lips twisting in thought. "One. There was a ship docked on Emerald Vale. Two. The power generator isn't for grilling sprats--" She gags at the mention of dead sprats. "And Three. There's a rumour about a guy in a _Hope_ onesie asking everyone about some power generator."

"It's not a onesie!" Alex says.

"It is so!" she says, her eyes gazing towards the door. "Meet me on the outskirts of town and I can help you find your power generator."

Cash returns to the bar with their drinks: two cans of alcohol called Zero Gee Brew.

"Zero Gee again?" the woman says, clicking her tongue.

"You said whatever we had in the back," Cash says, shrugging his shoulders. "Any other alcohol besides Gee is hard to come by these days. Also, that's 5 bits."

"Done." The woman taps her terminal. Cash’s terminal beeps. She takes the Zero Gee Brew, and chugs it all in one gulp. She discards the empty can in a trash bin (which also rings a jingle when opened) and walks out of the Cantina.

“Who was that?” Alex asks.

“Oh, that’s Nora. She works for the saltuna factory--or worked. Factory’s been overrun by marauders since Todson left for Byzantium,” Cash says. He leans close, examining Alex’s suit. “Word of advice, you should be careful askin' around here. No one likes Mr. Todson but we also want to survive.”

Cash returns to polishing the clear glasses as if no word has been said between them.

***

Nora waits on a dirt path under a tall sign that says _Welcome to Edgewater!_ She has a shotgun strapped to her back, and her curls are pinned atop her head. Her eyes light up when she sees Alex.

"Oh hey, I'm Nora by the way," she says, raising a fist. Alex takes the gesture as an opening for a first bump. He bumps his own fist with Nora’s

"Yeah uh...Cash, I think, told me. I'm Alex,” he says, and quickly adds, “Claremont-Diaz.”

Cause outside the fucking ship, he has control of his name and who he is.

"Sorry about The Cantina. I wanted to tell you more about the power generator." Nora rubs her boot behind her heel."But I couldn't do it with everyone watching you and your onesie. Which by the way, love _The Hope_ emblem, truly authentic!"

"It's not a onesie--" Alex drags a hand down his face. "Look, I just really need that power generator so can you tell me where it is?"

She smirks, putting a hand on her hip. "Oh, we can grab the one from the saltuna factory."

"But wouldn't that shut off the power in the factory?" he asks.

"Not if we redirect it," she replies. "The whole of Emerald Vale is powered by the geothermal plant so when we take the generator, we just have to make sure that the power is redirected to another source. Easy!"

"And you can do that?"

"Yep! I'm the factory's all around tech person." Her lips quirk downward. "Todson, who owns it, has me mostly working on the machines, though."

Nora seems honest, more than the rest of Edgewater frankly, but there is one thought stewing in Alex's head.

"Say, when I was asking around Edgewater," he starts, hugging his torso, "everyone seemed so...skittish when I talked about a fucking power generator."

"They're scared Todson will throw them out if they say anything, especially to some stranger who walked into town." She leans on the pole of the _Edgewater_ sign. "Even when he's at the capital, the big boss has his constables to watch over us."

"But not you. You sat in that bar and got me a drink and all."

Nora chews on her lip, her eyes downcast. She threads her grease-stained fingers together.

"Everyone on Edgewater has something or someone they hold dear," she says in a small voice, "someone Todson and the Board can use against them. I don't. At least not anymore."

Alex hasn’t dealt with such things. While the Board ruled with corruption and tyranny, he slept. Alex places a gentle hand on her shoulder, hoping that the gesture offers a bit of comfort.

"So where's that saltuna factory you're talking about?"

The smile on Nora’s face is wide and bright.

“Just up the hill.” She points at the trees on a cliff. Parts of a sign peek over the trees, the snout of a tuna and the words, _Edge_ and _Salt_. “I can take you there.”

***

The saltuna factory--or as it’s more appropriately called _Edgewater Saltuna Cannery--_ is a bunch of prefabricated buildings lined together like the Old World locomotives. Also just like the Old World locomotives, these prefabs are caked with rust and dirt. Nora leads him to a wide door at the back of the factory. She pushes a button. The door squeaks as it slides down, revealing an elevator.

“That doesn’t look safe,” Alex says.

“I take this all the time to the engines,” Nora says. She hops in. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

He rolls his eyes but he steps in the elevator anyway. Nora pushes the ‘B’ button on the wall. The door creaks close, and a familiar note plays.

 _“It’s not the best choiiice. It’s Spacer’s Choice!”_ That fucking jingle again, but this time it has been remixed to elevator music. Alex wants to search the whole factory and rip out whatever music box the song comes from.

"So where'd you come from, anyway?" Nora asks, breaking the silence and the annoying jingle. "Edgewater doesn't get a lot of visitors, and if we do, they're usually engineers from _The Groundbreaker_ or Todson's friends from the capital."

"I'm from _The Hope_ , actually,” he says. "Just got unfrozen and dropped off at Emerald Vale.”

Nora’s face lights up in wonder. "Wow, that’s so cool! Never thought of a settlement being called _The Hope_."

"No it's not a settlement,” Alex insists. “It's _The Hope_. Like the ship _Hope_. From Earth?"

“So is it like a commemorative thing? It’s been 70 years since _The Hope’s_ disappearance.”

Alex groans, rubbing his eyes. The elevator squeaks open. The floor they’re in is a long dimly lit hallway with a giant double door at the end. Nora steps in, gesturing for Alex to follow.

“So the power generator should be in that double door,” she explains, her footsteps light and quick; Alex has trouble keeping up. “We probably should get there before--”

Just then, a gunshot cracks. People in nondescript armour line up at the door, their rifles armed and ready. They’re marauders, Alex thinks, and their leader is the wrinkly old woman in a leather jacket, a shade darker than her skin. She chews on a toothpick, wearing a funny hat and a crooked grin that spells trouble.

Nora, who seems to have shrunk from her steely black eyes, says in a feeble voice “Uhmm...hi, Miss Johnson.”

Miss Johnson tips her hat. Her expression turns warm.

“Ey, It’s Nora! Mike’s granddaughter. Put yer guns down,” she commands, and the marauders put their guns away in practiced succession. “And who’s that handsome fellow--holy shit”

She looks at his suit, then his face, and her eyes dart up the ceiling. Alex can hear the gears turning in her head as the machines turn in this factory to produce saltuna tins. She’s making a connection--a hypothesis.

“Yer mom’s President Claremont,” Miss Johnson concludes. “She may not look like you but I can recognize that sharp jaw and those intense eyes anywhere. Plus you’ve got Senator Diaz’s look all over you and I know those two got hitched.”

“You know my parents?” he says. Alex is not at all surprised at her deduction, just _how?_

“Ye.” She flicks the toothpick with her tongue and it lands on the floor. “Was one of the first folks who went on _The Groundbreaker_. Yer mom was newly elected then, right? And yer dad was a senator in her cabinet. Don’t know how or why they even allow those but hey, you take what you can get with the apocalypse.”

And that’s why his Dad moved across the continent and returned home to the California Republic, he thinks.

“Wait.” Nora turns to face him. “You’re actually from _The Hope_?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” he hisses.

“I don’t know. I thought _The Hope_ is some boogeyman the Board made up so we don’t think about getting out of Halcyon,” Nora shrugs, and her mouth drops open. “But if you’re from _The Hope_ then you must be like 90 years old or something. Wow, I hope I look that hot when I’m 90.”

“I’m 22 damnit!”

“And you’ve been gone for a _long_ time, dearie.” Miss Johnson cocks her head, squashing the toothpick on her heel. “Halcyon has _changed_ and it’s not like the bullshit they told you in the pamphlets. Maybe it has never been. Maybe, it’s never supposed to be.”

Alex crosses his arms. “I’m here to change things and stop the Board.”

Miss Johnson cracks a raspy laugh. “Lots of people have tried. What makes you different?”

“The Board hasn’t faced anyone from _The Hope_ , the best and brightest humanity has to offer.”

“Let me give you some advice, the jabberings from an old crone--but don’t call me a crone,” Miss Johnson huffs, leaning on her rifle. “Halcyon is the way it is because of some assholes with fat pockets lined with gold but make no mistake, this is humanity’s curse as well.”

“Then it’s our job to fix it,” Alex says, “if it is our curse.”

“What I’m saying is, you can get rid of every bastard on the Board but if you don’t--” she makes a cutting gesture with her fingers “of the Old World ideals then you’re no different from the assholes sitting on the Board. Why’d you think we bombed each other? Ever heard of war never changes? Even us in the Second Civ fail to break the cycle.”

Alex’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Miss Johnson is right but he still trusts in _The Hope_ and that the people on the ship can bring Halcyon and humanity to a new age.

“Anyway, I should let you go.” She steps aside, gesturing for her marauders to also move away from the door. “You’re not here cause Todson sent you, you brought that Holleran kid.”

“Thank you, Miss Johnson! We won’t cause any trouble!” Nora says. She bows towards Miss Johnson before opening the double doors. Alex follows.

“Oh, I think you’re going to cause good trouble, a mighty plenty,” Miss Johnson says just as they close the double doors behind them.

The engine room--as Alex assumes it is from the giant neon sign saying _ENGINE ROOM_ \--is filled with pipes protruding from the walls, through the ground and up and around the ceiling. There are giant gears which aren’t turning as no one is working in the factory at this moment. Alex steps over a number of sentry bots and drones with large bullet holes on their hulls.

Nora leads him to a tall metal case. At the centre of the case is a metallic block, wide and blocky. Tiny tubes fan out from the square and into the rest of the case, linking to different machines which Alex can’t see.

“That’s the power generator,” Nora says, tinkering with the switchboard in front of the case. “Now we just have to disconnect it from the plant.”

The block clicks. Alex opens the case. This is it, the power generator which can take him out of here.

“Alex, wait--”

Just as he pulls out the power generator, the lights flicker and turn off. The gears halt. The engine room is enveloped in darkness.

“Shit! What fuck happened?” Alex asks, his heart racing.

“We uhhh...uhmm.” Nora taps her terminal; light blinks on. She examines. “Yeah, we might have redirected the power to the geothermal power plant.”

“Oh, huh.”

“And we might have also redirected all the power from Edgewater.”

“ _Fuck_.”

The door swings open in the engine room. Light footsteps walk in. Alex can’t see who the person is but from the glint of her rifle, and the rustling of her leather overcoat, it’s Miss Johnson.

“Oh shit, what did you do?” He can’t see her in the darkness but he knows she has her crooked grin.

“Uh...nothing.” Alex slides the power generator behind his back which doesn’t do much hiding since the generator is wider than his torso.

“You know, I was right about you,” Miss Johnson says. “About causing good trouble. I don’t often say this to a lot of people but I gotta good feeling about you.”

Alex laughs shakily. “Uhh..thanks?”

“I should get my men out of here, before Todson comes in and sees the mess. You and Nora should get out of here too and soon. Todson’s not the only one with a problem with the factory being cut off.” She walks away, exiting out of the engine room.

***

There is a hidden exit out of the saltuna factory without using the elevator that they can access from the engine room. The hidden exit isn’t small per se, just has a tight squeeze. So that’s how Alex’s body hangs halfway from a window just a few feet from the grassy ground. He places his hands below him, pushing.

“You’re almost there!” Nora yells from below, holding the power generator. “I can hear your ass squeezing out.”

“Shut up.” Alex gives one final push, feeling his ass squeeze and slide off the exit. He rolls on the ground, lying on his back, revelling on the fresh grass on his skin. He gets up, dusting the dirt from his suit.

Without the lights giving life, Edgewater looks no different from the abandoned ghost towns on Earth, although the prefabs give it a blue tinge in contrast to the grey and green tone of The Commonwealth ghost towns.

“You think they’ll be okay?”

“Edgewater’s resilient. That town has survived plagues, famine and Todson,” Nora says, “but this--this is different. Can’t say if what we did was right but this could be the push that leads them away from Todson and the Board--to form their own community”

Alex hopes she’s right.

“So, now that I’m technically without a job because of--” She gestures at the saltuna factory and the dark town of Edgewater. “You told Johnson that you want to stop the Board--and I did see your fancy ship--plus you know I’ve got experience with engines.”

“You’re not going to go back to help them?” Alex says, his eyes darting at Edgewater.

“Edgewater’s been there and done that. Honestly, if it weren’t for my grandpa I would have left years ago, but he’s gone, so.” She wipes a tear forming in her eyes. “There are lots of good people in the town who could do a better job. My place is helping you stop the Board.”

“All right,” Alex says, feeling his heart swell. “You’re in.”

Nora squeals, throwing her arms around him. “Just let me go grab a change of clothes, a toothbrush and my toolkit! And I’ll meet you on the ship! I think I know where it is?”

“I’ll send you the coordinates,” Alex says.

Nora flashes finger guns at him and she runs off.

Alex takes one final look at the dark town. The dread churning in his gut says he’s fucked up this perfectly good town with good people. But there’s something else stirring, and it looks like Miss Johnson leading her group of marauders out of the factory, and resting near a tree. It looks like the marauders taking off their helmets and their armours, revealing their faces--their humanity. It looks like Miss Johnson checking in on them, giving them food and drink.

It looks like hope.

***

Nora drops her heavy toolkit, the floor shaking a little. She takes in the feel of the ship, her eyes bright and her mouth gawking. Alex lets her stare, to take in the ship in the way he wasn’t able to.

 _“Welcome back Captain!_ ” DIA announces through a speaker. _“I see you brought a new friend_!”

“Oh cool! There’s an AI on the ship?” Nora says. She runs into the cockpit where DIA's kind light is waiting for them. The light trains on Nora, scanning her.

“They’re called DIA,” Alex says, “Defense Integrated something? I forgot.”

“Defense Integrated Automaton,” DIA explains with their usual monotone. “Captain Hawthorne, I have successfully installed the power generator. We are ready to take flight.”

“Wait.” Nora cocks an eyebrow. “Did the AI just call you _Hawthorne_?”

“It’s a long story and something weird with the AI’s protocol--which is not my fault--so just get used to it?” Alex says, scratching his nape. “I’m getting used to it.”

“Captain, I detect an increase in heart rate and blood pressure,” DIA pipes in. “Should I call for medical assistance?”

“Ugh, no!”

Nora laughs. “That’s so cool! But I mean if you’d like I could change the AI’s protocol. I just need time to mess with it.”

DIA’s light turns red. “Captain! I will not permit Nora Holleran to--in human colloquial terms--mess with me.”

“Whoa, it knows me?” Nora says.

“I have scanned any and all information relating to Nora Holleran.”

“Creepy.”

Alex slides between DIA and Nora. “This is fun and all but how do we get out of here?”

“I can take care of that Captain,” DIA replies in a light and chirpy tone. “Just give me the order.”

“Okay, uhh...Start. Engine. Go?” Alex says.

The floor rumbles beneath them as the engines hum. Alex’s heart clenches, anticipation bubbling in his stomach. When _The Hope_ left Earth, he had been confined in his cryo pod, sleeping. He has never heard a ship’s wings fold and turn for space flight or heard the click of a skip drive activating.

Against all odds, _The Unreliable_ takes flight.

***

Terra-2 looks serene thousands of miles up. Clouds swirl over the ocean, a blue marble, a blue planet, _Earth-like_. There’s a patch of green on Terra-2’s single continent which stretches for miles. Alex imagines the green expanse is Emerald Vale. From the cockpit, no one can tell that the region is filled with monsters--human-shaped and not.

When the astronauts first orbited space, did they see Earth as a bastion of peace? Did they look at the continents sprawling on oceans and forget the wars waged on them, the blood spilled, and the bombs made? What did Earth look like from space when the bombs fell?

It’s surprising how Alex managed to make it out of Emerald Vale alive.

He receives a call. It’s from Zahra with a request for video.

He slides in the chair and picks it up. The person who answers isn’t Zahra but is as familiar to him as braided pigtails and tattered magazines. _She_ kept those magazines as a reminder for why she sends columns to The Commonwealth Times even if the stories they ask of her isn’t the investigated journalism she dreamed of.

“Hey, Alex,” June says, her smile weary. She’s still his sister with her caramel highlights and her big brown Diaz eyes.

“June,” he says, and if he isn’t clinging on the navigation panel, then he collapses on his knees. “How are you?”

“I overslept--which is more of a you thing than mine.” She forces a weak chuckle, and Alex finds himself laughing too. He wishes she was here. He wants to hold her, hug her and she could tell him everything is not fucked up when it is.

“Zahra told me that my vitals are fine but I still need time to recover,” she continues. “So I can’t join you in your mission yet. Don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

Alex leans on his hand, cocking an eyebrow. “Wow, such great expectations of your sweet brother.”

“I mean I had to pull you down from parapets in The White House, so yes. Just be careful okay and I miss you,” she says. “Oh, and Zahra wants to talk to you now.”

The vid flickers, and then Zahra appears on the screen.

“Great, you made it out alive. I was thinking you got killed by marauders,” Zahra says.

“Nice to see you too Zahra,” Alex says. “So are you going to finally tell me what your plan is?”

“As you know, _The Hope_ has the best and brightest of humanity and to save Halcyon we need to wake everyone on that ship,” she starts. “There is this formula, dimethyl sulfoxide which I used to revive you and your sister but it’s not enough for every sleeper on _The Hope_."

"Dimethyl what?" Alex asks, twisting his little finger in his ear. "Sorry, my brain is only wired to understand things like malfeasance and Subpoena Duces Tecum."

"Dimethyl sulfoxide. It's just a fancy liquid that makes sure you don't explode into a pile of goo upon waking up." Zahra rolls her eyes but she continues. "We--or technically, _you_ need to find Halcyon's chief supply of the formula so we can safely wake everyone on the ship. Luckily for you, I've done half the search."

An image of the Halcyon star system appears on her screen. Alex has never seen the system in detail. The star charts were only reserved for the scientists and the Board. There are six planets. The two planets that are labeled on this image are Terra-2 and Monarch.

"I have a contact in Stellar Bay on Monarch, who has information on Halcyon's supply of dimethyl sulfoxide," Zahra says.

"I thought you did half the search!" Alex says, throwing his hands.

"Yeah, I found the contact for you. He goes under the alias: Man on the Moon."

"That's a weird name," Alex comments.

Zahra ignores that. "Also you can't go to Stellar Bay right now. All travel to Monarch has been banned since the Board kicked them out. You need a special navkey for it."

"Seriously I swear you're making this purposefully difficult."

"No. I'm not," Zahra insists. "If I was making it difficult, I wouldn't say you can find a navkey to Monarch on _The Groundbreaker_."

" _The Groundbreaker,_ huh? Always wondered what happened to that ship." Alex leans back. Memories of the launch fill his mind: his mother's speech, the dust storms pelting The White House, when _The Groundbreaker_ took off and how it warmed his little 11 year old heart.

"Naomi Chen is the chief engineer of _The Groudbreaker._ "

Chen. He's heard of the last name before in the context of the Halcyon project. "Hey, Jocelyn Chen was the lead engineer on _The Groundbreaker_."

"Her granddaughter is Naomi. She's the de facto leader of _The Groundbreaker_ , with her wife Amy," Zahra says. “If anyone has access to a navkey to Monarch, it would be them. Once you get the navkey, come to my station and I'll install it.”

Alex leans on the nav panel. Zahra has unloaded a lot of information at him, he didn't have time to parse them all. So he cobbles them up in a list:

  1. Go to _The Groundbreaker_.
  2. Get navkey from Naomi or Amy
  3. Find Zahra's contact
  4. Use info from her contact to find the dimethyl sulfoxide
  5. Wake up _The Hope_ 's sleepers and save Halcyon??



Alex lost in his thoughts, he doesn't even realize Zahra has ended the call. He slumps on the chair, spinning around to face DIA.

"Hey, so uhmm...how do I tell the ship to go to places?" he asks, scratching his hair.

"The old Captain Hawthorne used different prompts for each mood he had on that day," DIA explains. "As an example: set a course for the sexy sexy _The Groundbreaker._ "

Alex groans. The more he learns of Hawthorne, the more he understands why he didn't move when the escape pod came crashing down the sky. Alex Hawthorne was a fucking dumbass.

"I'll think I'll just go with, set a course for _The Groundbreaker_ ," he says.

 _The Unreliable_ kicks into hyperspeed, zipping for the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone gets a cowboy hat and his designated LI.

**[ARCHIVED] ALEX HAWTHORNE’S TERMINAL**

To: Walter Kingsley

From: Alex Hawthorne

Subject: Dinner

Walter,

You impounded my ship again. I almost think you wanted to see me. May I suggest in our future meeting, we go somewhere less _drab_. Maybe Lost Hope. It’s a bar at the starboard side of the promenade. Let’s have dinner there, if your fine _Byzantium_ tastes won’t shirk at the sight of such a premise.

Looking forward to my least hated Board ambassador,

-AH

To: Alex Hawthorne

From: Walter Kingsley

Subject: RE: Dinner

Alex,

Ha! As if _I_ would ever want to see you. I’ve seen The Lost Hope and its baudy...patrons. It’s not the kind of establishment I normally would go too. My tastes are more suited for the fine wineries at the outskirts of the capital. Oh! You’d love their cheeses! Made from fresh goat milk. They have goats in Byzantium now. Can you believe it?

One day, I shall take you there. You’d complain and moan about the decorum but secretly, you enjoy my presence.

I hate to admit this but miss you terribly. I can make arrangements at Lost Hope if you wish to meet there.

Write soon.

Xoxo

-WK

The messages end there. Hawthorne meets his end a few days later under the heel of an escape pod; Walter Kingsley will never receive another email. Alex closes Hawthorne's inbox and clicks ‘DELETE’. He's not here to dig up a dead man's personal life. He is here to dig through his clothes.

Alex strips out of his spacesuit. He pads across the captain’s quarters, the chilly floor stinging needles on his bare feet. He catches his reflection on the window, faded. Despite _The Hope's_ 70 year disappearance, his defining traits are still recognizable: his mop of dark curls, smooth brown skin, and sharp jaw.

Seventy years. It feels unbelievable. Before embarking on this journey, he knew his own biological clock would be out of sync with his natural age. He signed the papers: ten years in cryosleep. One day for them. Ten years on Earth.

But 70 years is a long goddamn time. Seven generations have passed while he was left adrift among the stars. His friends have lived full lives while he slept.

Did they think about him?

Was he a character in the stories they tell their children, their grandchildren?

Do they remember him?

He opens Hawthorne's closet. A full row of leather jackets hangs on the clothesline. Beige canvas shirts and dark pants fill the shelves; the drawers are stocked with socks, undershirts and underwear. He’s not wearing Hawthorne’s boxer-briefs. That’s weird.

Stealing clothes from the guy _you_ killed is already weird.

Alex tries on a shirt and a pair of pants. They fit surprisingly well. The pants are a little short, the length ending just above his ankles. Whatever, it's not like an exposed ankle can free Halcyon from the Board’s clutches. He shrugs on a leather jacket and slides into his boots.

There’s a full-length mirror on the closet door. The boy in the mirror looks like the dashing captain of a freighter ship, someone who warmed hearts at every port he lands, who caught the eye of a Board agent and exchanged fanciful emails with him. Alex is none of those.

Hey, at least he isn't wearing an obvious sign he's from _The Hope_. He grabs the crumpled spacesuit and puts it on the top shelf. Something drops, landing on the floor with a soft thump. Alex picks it up. It's a cowboy hat.

Why does Hawthorne need a cowboy hat in space?

He tries the hat on.

This is ridiculous, a caricature of the cowboys in the Westerns.

Still, he doesn’t look half bad. The canvas pants could do better at highlighting his ass.

 _"Arriving on The Groundbreaker in ETA 30 minutes,"_ DIA announces in their usual monotone.

Alex shuts the closet. He needs to talk to Nora before they land, ask her about _The Groundbreaker_.

***

Alex finds Nora in the cargo hold, tinkering with what looks like a giant hunk of metal. It has four long arms jutting from its body. Two spheres sit on top of its body, resembling eyes. Nora sees Alex and waves him over.

"Oh! Nice outfit. Very spacer," she says, wiping the sweat off her brow with a grease-stained hand. "I see you raided Hawthorne's closet."

Alex bites back a retort. He did _raid_ Hawthorne's closet.

“Though I think the hat is a bit too much,” she adds.

"So." He leans on the workbench, changing the subject. "What's _The Groundbreaker_ like? I mean I only saw it leave Earth as a kid. I never knew what happened to it after it arrived at Halcyon.”

"Oh, _The Groundbreaker_ is one of the few areas in Halcyon free from corporate control," she says, "as Zahra might have told you, they're led by Amy and Naomi Chen."

“And the Board’s fine with _The Groundbreaker’s_ independence?”

“Yeah, _The Groundbreaker_ is essentially a freeport, so no taxes and cheaper goods all around.” She twists a screw with her wrench. “So long as they cooperate with the Board’s liaison officer.”

Walter Kingsley, the man in Hawthorne's emails.

"Yeah, I've heard--or I guess read--about the guy," Alex says, "on Hawthorne's terminal. They were really close."

"Oh, juicy gossip!" Nora's eyes grow wide. "Tell me! Tell me!"

"No." He crosses his arms. "Besides, he's dead so I deleted it."

"I don't see you having a problem walking around in a dead guy's clothes."

"Well, I needed the clothes."

"And we need intel on the Board."

"There's no intel in it! Just a bunch of emails between two dudes," Alex argues. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, maybe you can interpret Hawthorne wanting to go have dinners with Kingsley so he can get information on the Board--which by the way he never wrote that information in the email--but nothing’s conclusive."

"I see what you mean." She purses her lips but doesn’t press on. Stretching her arms, she says "Anyway, I need a shower before we land on _The Groundbreaker._ "

"What about uhm--this?" He gestures at the hunk of metal bent on the ground.

"Oh, that.” Nora inputs commands on her terminal. The metal sits up. Its two spheres blink, showing glowing green lenses underneath.

 _"_ Good day, Ms. Holleran. How may I assist you?" the metal, which is clearly a bot of some kind, greets in a kind accented tone. A British butler, when Britain had manors for butlers, in robot form. Nora inputs another command. The bot spins around, facing him.

"New Entry Input: Human. Alex Claremont-Diaz," Nora commands.

The bot scans him. "Good day, Mr. Claremont-Diaz! I am the latest of the Sanitation Automated Machine series, the SAM-5000. The best cleaning and serving robot in Halcyon! I can take care of the kids. Clean the house. Prepare meals. Any housekeeping you’d like!”

“Whoa, where’d you find a cleaning robot?” Alex asks.

“In one of the quarters upstairs. They were just lying around so I fixed them up, removed the annoying jingle and the ads every five minutes.” Nora rolls her eyes. “Can’t get rid of the Byzantium accent though. I think it’s part of their core.”

She tosses an empty tin of saltuna on the ground. SAM-5000 whirs. They hover towards the saltuna tin, and pick it up. A compartment tilts open on their body; they drop the tin and the compartment closes. There’s a sound of metal being pressed and shredded from the robot.

“Cool, huh? I programmed them to automatically pick and dispose of trash,” she says, then hops on the ladder leading to the top floor. “Anyway, I’d like to talk to you more about SAM but I really need that shower.”

“Okay, so I’ll see you at the door then?”

“Yep.”

“And Nora,” he says, rubbing the side of his neck, “thanks for inputting me as Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

“No problem. can’t have both AIs on this ship referring to you as Alex Hawthorne.” She leans on the railing. “Which reminds me, when can I mess with DIA so I can change their protocol?”

 _“Nora Holleran,_ ” DIA’s voice comes on the speakers, stern, _“by the protocol set by the Defense Integrated Automation, you are not permitted to mess with me unless you are Alex Hawthorne. There will be consequences if you break this protocol_.”

“Yeah, maybe don’t mess with the AI. Don’t want a robot uprising on top of the Board’s bullshit,” he grins.

Nora laughs. “Have you seen the number of bots they use in Byzantium? Maybe a robot uprising is seriously what the Board needs. Just make sure we’re out of the crossfire.”

Alex laughs, warm and giddy, and it’s the first time he’s felt _glad_ since arriving on Halcyon. He watches Nora disappear into the hallway, and he thinks they’ll be all right.

***

 _The Groundbreaker_ is an image of neon signs, blaring their overpriced goods. Sentry bots zip through the promenade, flashing advertisements, mascots and jingles. Lots of jingles. It's like the New Vegas strip on Earth, their refurbished casinos blinding even on the television. When he imagined _The Groundbreaker_ as a child, he thought of the ship becoming a beacon of Halcyon’s beauty. His heart sinks seeing the station turn into a funnel for corporations.

Alex only needs the navkey to Monarch and they can get out of here. He follows the map on his terminal, finding Chief Chen's office. Then a sentry bot stops him. Unlike the sentry bots blasting advertisements, this bot has an officer's cap molded onto it.

"HALT! YOU'VE VIOLATED THE LAW!" the sentry bot says in an authoritative voice.

He's dealt with...characters like the sentry bot. They're hard to negotiate with, but add a bit of flattery, a charming smile and buttery words, they'll soften right up. Usually. The Alex Claremont-Diaz Charm Initiative has only been tested with humans.

"Hello...uh officer?" he says, unsure of the proper way of addressing a bot designed as a law enforcer. Regardless, the smile stays in place. "May I know which law I violated?"

"HALT! YOU'VE VIOLATED THE LAW." A ticket slip slides out of its orifice, a thin metal square. The officer bot pulls the slip in its metal claw and hands the ticket to Alex.

The ticket slip reads, in blocky letters:

_The Unreliable._

_Captain: Alex Hawthorne._

_Class: Freighter-D_

_Violation: Unspecified. See Walter Kingsley at the Halcyon Holdings Corporation Liaison Office._

_Fine: 50,000 Bits_

_Status: The Unreliable is impounded on The Groundbreaker until further notice._

Shit. Kingsley still thinks the captain of _The Unreliable_ is Alex Hawthorne and wants to meet with him. For a chat. _For dinner_. Alex is all for a good scandal and Shakespearean affairs, but he doesn’t really have time for this one.

"Listen, officer, I would love to have a chat with Mr. Walter Kingsley," he tries, the charming face faltering, "but I'm quite busy and can you ask him to free my ship?"

“HALT! YOU’VE VIOLATED THE LAW!” The sentry bot repeats and this time it sounds like lines are being fed to it. “PAY THE COURT A FINE OR SERVE YOUR SENTENCE!”

"Sounds a lot like the constables on Edgewater," Nora comments.

He groans. "I have no time for this."

When Alex tries to walk away, the bot blocks him. It extends one of its arms and cuffs Alex's wrist.

"Hey!" He tries to yank free but the bot has an iron hold on his hand.

"HALT! YOU'VE VIOLATED THE LAW. PAY THE COURT A FINE OR SERVE YOUR SENTENCE."

This line. This sentence. _This string of words_ is worse than the jingles. At least the jingles have a shred of substance and are matched with a catchy tune. The officer bot has nothing to say other than be intimidating. If only his hand isn't cuffed by this very bot, he'll clock it with the butt of his pistol.

Nora calls his name. She points her shotgun at the bot.

“No, don’t shoot it!" Alex says. “Just go find Amy Chen."

She hesitates.

"I'll be fine," he promises.

Nora puts away her shotgun. “Okay, but if you’re not out after 3 hours, I’m busting into Kingsley’s office."

The sentry bot leads him past the markets and in front a stunning building which stretches for miles; it touches the stars. The structure is made of marble and adorned with gold embellishments, the most impressive is the stylized _HHC_ on its facade--a stark contrast to Old World prefabs. Anyone who passes by this building immediately knows what it is and stands for: the Board, its opulence and greed. The bot pushes him through an ornate door. Once inside, it releases his cuffs and exits out of the building, locking him inside.

Alex’s heart thunders in his ears. He’s alone in the office of a Board agent who thinks he is Alex Hawthorne. Alex Hawthorne, a man he killed.

“Come in,” commands a creaky voice, "and take a seat."

Alex walks past the intricate divider. The first thing Alex notices in this office is red velvet: the carpet, the drapes on the walls, the chairs. The next is the large portrait hanging at the back of the office. In the portrait is a silver-haired man, his skin so thin and papery he wonders how he hasn't combusted at the first touch of sunlight. His nose is pointed up, his mouth upturned in a half-smile, and an eyebrow raised.

On the plaque beneath the painting: _Jeffrey Richards. Chief Director of the Halcyon Holdings Corporations_.

So he's the man in charge of this system. Richards is old family. Alex has seen the name pop up in Old World history books and it has always been steeped in scandal and corruption.

A man sits behind the ornate desk. His auburn hair is combed back and shiny with gel. Like the Richards portrait, he wears a velvety coat, fastened with golden clips at his throat. A plaque is on his desk: _Officer Kingsley, Groundbreaker._ Walter Kingsley sees him take a seat at the plush chair. He discards the datapad in his hand.

“You are not Alex Hawthorne,” Kingsley says, his glasses perched at the tip of his nose.

"Took you a while to figure it out," Alex smirks, a challenge.

"Oh, I knew it the moment you walked off that ship. I have eyes and ears at all corners of this port," he says, keeping his voice steady but there was a tremor in his voice when he said Hawthorne's name. "It's just a matter of trying to get you in my office."

"By sending an officer bot at me?"

"Alex loves the thrill of the chase. Loves running through the promenade until a sentry bot brings him to me."

"Ugh--forget about Alex," _Alex_ groans, "stop impounding my ship!"

Kingsley leans forward, so close, Alex tastes the tang of his cologne. He pushes his glasses up.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that," he says, pressing his palms together.

He tries for flattery. "Surely there is a way we can discuss these terms--"

Kingsley shuts him with a hand. "Without offering a proposition." He looks right into Alex's eyes. "Zahra Bankston, where is she?"

A chill runs down Alex's spine. "What--what do you mean?"

"Zahra Bankston is wanted by the HHC for various crimes. I know Hawthorne had a working relationship with her," he says. "You have access to his ship, so you must have information on her whereabouts."

Alex grips the arms of the velvety chair.

"No," he lies, "I don't. Hawthorne didn't have information of her whereabouts on _The Unreliable._ "

Kingsley regards him, tipping his glasses.

"That's...unfortunate. And unfortunately for you, _The Unreliable_ is impounded until you pay the fine." He picks up the datapad on his desk, turning from him. "Please leave."

He gladly gets up and moves to exit.

"Oh, one thing," Kingsley says just as Alex pushes the door. "What happened to Alex Hawthorne?"

The question strikes him like a poisoned tip spear at his throat. Alex's hands curl into fists at his sides.

"He's dead," he says.

The door swings behind him. He doesn't wait for Kingsley's reaction.

***

It takes him a while to navigate through the promenade's markets but Alex found Chief Amy Chen's office, a prefab at the ship's interior by the engine room. Compared with Kingsley's impressive building, the prefab is simple: plain metallic walls decorate the building and a wide window which you can see the office from outside. Nora's in there having an animated conversation with the Chief.

"Oh, Alex, you're here! I was just about to come get you," Nora says and then, she turns to the woman sitting behind the desk. "Amy, this is Alex, the captain of our ship, _The Unreliable_."

Amy shakes his hand. "It's nice to meet you Captain Alex…"

“Just Alex is fine,” he says. He hates having to explain the Alex situation.

"Don't worry, she knows about the whole Alex Hawthorne issue,” Nora says.

"I've dealt with Alex Hawthorne. He always gets into trouble with the sentry bots, which comes to my desk or my wife’s,” Amy says, twining her fingers. She grimaces, “Nothing came up when _The Unreliable_ docked, so either Hawthorne stopped messing with our bots or someone took his name.”

"Much as I like talking about the other Alex," he says as he takes a seat on the bench, "that’s not why we’re here for and--”

“You need a navkey to Stellar Bay in Monarch,” she finishes for him, smiling. “Nora told me everything.”

"And here I thought I could use my charming good looks and my glowing smile to sweet talk you into giving me the navkey."

"I'm flattered," she laughs, "but as I told Nora, I can't give out navkeys at the moment."

It's Nora who tells him. "One of the engineers used the last navkey on a supply trip and hasn't been back. They haven't heard from him since he was en route back to _The Groundbreaker._ "

"And it'll take a while to fabricate a new one," Amy adds. "Naomi's busy fixing the heating system on the station."

"Well, we could find the missing engineer for you. We could use their navkey for Monarch!" Nora suggests.

"That's great and all but _The Unreliable's_ still impounded," Alex says, scratching his hair. "I wasn't able to convince Kingsley."

"If you agree to find Pascal, our engineer, I can pull some strings with the Board delegates." Amy purses her lips. "Free your ship."

He quirks an eyebrow. "He's that important?"

"He has information I need. I can't tell you what it is exactly as it's confidential but it's necessary for the survival of our system. I don't want it in the wrong hands."

Alex leans on his hand. Why can't this place just be straightforward? He sighs. "So, where do we start if we want to find this Pascal?"

" _Roseway Gardens_ ," she says, simply."Our comm channels tracked his shuttle on the station before it went offline."

"Kinda weird that he stopped by another place on the way back," Alex says.

" _Roseway_ and _The Groundbreaker_ often collaborate on projects, right?" Nora asks.

"Yes, we do but we currently don't have any ongoing collaborations. At least, nothing worth stopping by during a supply run."

"So you think he might have betrayed the info?" he says.

"I think you should investigate," Amy says tersely. "Find Pascal and bring him to us."

She flips open the thin terminal on her desk and types. A minute later, she says, "Your ship is free to go and I sent you the map to _Roseway Gardens_. It should be a station orbiting Terra-2."

Alex and Nora exit Amy's office. They cross through the promenade and this time, there are no officer bots who arrest him. When they return to _The Unreliable_ , a man is waiting by the ramp. He has perfectly combed blond hair, pale rosy cheeks, and the most impossibly blue eyes. Even from afar, Alex can see the blue in them which looks like a crystal under dim light. He sees them, and his mouth turns into a friendly smile.

"Excuse me?" the man says. "Are you the captain of this ship?"

Alex puts his hands on his hips. "What would it mean if I was?

"I--err," he starts, his ears going pink, "I'm a journalist for the Halcyon Observer in Byzantium and I am writing a travel journal about the beauty of Halcyon. I was hoping I could join you in your travels so I could better capture Halcyon's beauty.”

Alex notes his silk shirt, polished shoes, his glossy, _rich_ leather jacket and the posh accent curling around those vowels. Walter Kingsley has the same accent, albeit Kingsley's is a rusted cog in a machine. His is pleasant, like curling inside a blanket during a dust storm, sipping hot cocoa.

But Alex is not ruling out that he's a Board spy just because he sounds and looks nice.

"If you're worried about me being a burden to your travels, I'm as good with a pistol as I am patching up wounds," the stranger adds with a smile. "I even brought a med kit. And a pistol of course."

"Uhh...you haven't told us your name," Nora says, grinning like she knows something.

The stranger sputters. "My name?"

"Yeah," Alex says, "unless you want to be called Weird Travel Journalist Stalker."

"Henry," he says after a minute, which is too long to think about your own goddamn name. "Henry Fox."

"I knew it!" Nora says, pointing her finger at him. "I knew you're their kid!"

"I-I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"Arthur Fox! The star in the Jett Ryder serials!" she exclaims. "Like I knew the moment I saw you cause you have the same perfectly chiselled bone structure and blond hair. I just had to hear it--by the way, I'm Nora Holleran, big fan of your Dad's pictures!" She leans close to Henry, tapping her chin. "But hmm…the blue eyes are--"

"Okay, I am really not following,” Alex says. “Who _is_ Arthur Fox?"

"He plays Jett Ryder, a charming, suave spy who roots out dissenters threatening the Board,” Nora answers. “They’re mostly propaganda but we still love watching them and my grandpa’s favourites are _The Dissenter Who Loved Me_ and _Bits Are Forever_."

"So like James Bond?"

"Who's James Bond?" asks Henry.

“I apologize Mr. Fox,” Nora replies, “he’s been trapped on _The Hope_ for so long. He doesn't know the latest pictures."

“You’re from _The Hope_?” Henry’s blue eyes twinkle.

Alex sucks in a breath. “Let me speak with my associate in private.”

He grabs Nora's arm, leading her by a stack of crates. Their backs turned at Henry.

"Why did you tell him I'm from _The Hope_?" he hisses.

"Because he wants to join our crew?"

"He could be a Board spy! Like his Dad!"

“Okay one, _Jett Ryder_ is the spy, not _Arthur Fox_. And two.” Nora peeks over his shoulder. "I don't know. He seems too nice to be spying for the Board."

"That's what he wants you to believe.” Alex looks over his shoulder. Henry is still standing by the ramp, innocuously clutching the strap of his satchel. He catches Alex’s gaze, and his ears flush pinker like a blooming rose. Nora's right. He is too _nice_ to be a Board spy.

“I just--I don’t know.” He pulls at his hair. “I wished this was _easier_.” He drags his hands over his face, groaning in frustration. “I wished people would just tell me to my face what they want instead of, I don’t know, sending us to the fucking ice planet of Hoth.”

He thinks about June. June can deal with people like _them_. She has her way as a journalist--an _investigative_ journalist--but she’s recovering at Zahra’s station. And Alex is on _The Groundbreaker._

Nora opens her mouth for a retort.

Alex snaps. “Do not ask what Hoth is.”

“Obviously, I know what Hoth is,” she mutters, playing with a loose thread on her overalls. “I mean, maybe ask him a question?”

Before Alex asks what question she is talking about, Henry moves towards them.

“I apologize if you’re still having your meeting, but I overheard you talking about Hoth,” he says, his blue eyes shining. “I’m a big fan of the _Stars Among Empires_ pictures.” He tucks his hair behind his ears. “Not that it should affect my qualifications for this journey.”

“Oh! I love _Stars Among Empires_!” Nora says.

 _Stars Among Empires_ is an even worse name for a series about space wizards and glowy sticks than _Star Wars_.

“Okay, Henry, we were just uh...finishing with our meeting,” Alex says, shifting his eyes to Nora, “and I do have one more question for you.”

“All right." He crosses his arms. "If this is about my favourite _Stars_ pictures then it's definitely _Return of the Justicar_."

That's what they call _Return of the Jedi_?

"No, this isn't about _Stars Among Empires_ ," Alex says, "which, by the way--wrong answer."

"How can I be wrong about my favourite pictures?" Henry argues. "And you haven't even watched _Stars Among Empires_."

"I grew up on _Star Wars_ and they sound the same but that isn't my question." He turns at Nora for any hint about the question he's supposed to ask. She shrugs, shaking her head.

Fine, he'll deal with this by myself.

"What is the value of pi?" he asks, and he can't believe _this_ is the question he asks for determining Henry's true allegiance.

"I'm sorry?" Henry says. Nora is just as flummoxed as he is.

Alex squares his shoulders, jutting out his chin. It's ridiculous. "Yeah, you heard me. The value of pi. Answer it correctly and I might let you join my crew."

Henry blinks; looks at the stars as if the answer will crash as a meteorite on _The Groundbreaker_. Then he grins, all-white and perfect teeth, shining brighter than the constellations above them. Alex wants to vomit.

"The value of _pie_ is 10 credits in this economy," he says. "The prices may vary of course, depending on which Halcyon Holdings Corporation you purchase from."

Nora snickers. "That's a good one.”

Okay, so he's a smartass. Nothing new, Alex went to law school in the Commonwealth after all, where every aspiring, bright-eyed politician learns quipping as a second language. But there’s something Alex can’t quite figure about this man; call it an _itch_ in his cerebral cortex which makes his hands all clammy and his chest feel weird.

It’s…

Ah, he gets it and he feels stupid for not catching it in the first place. Only Board agents call the Board and its corporations Halcyon Holdings. This Henry Fox is a Board agent, a good one who almost fooled Alex into joining his crew.

"Okay, Nora, we're going," Alex says, walking up the steps and to the door. "Good luck on the travel journal. I'm sure it's going to be awesome but we've got other important things to do than tour Halcyon."

"Yeah, sorry about that!" Nora flashes finger guns. "Love your Dad’s pictures, by the way. Be sure to let him know that he has a fan from Edgewater!"

Henry jumps on the ramp, holding on the railing. "Wait! You're trying to go against the H--the _Board_ , yes?"

"What would it mean if we are?" Alex's spine snaps taut. How the _fuck_ does he know?

“Halcyon is rotten, yes and my father’s pictures and sponsorships might have made it worse,” he says, voice breaking, “and yes, I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, unlike the people in Edgewater.” He looks at Nora and then glances around the station. “Or _The Groundbreaker_ , or in Monarch, but where I come from or how I grew up doesn’t represent who I am and who I want to be. And I want to make this place better for everyone. Not just the Board or Byzantium.”

Alex grips the metal railing, his heart beating loudly in his chest. He thinks about a boy on Earth with warm brown eyes, who used to look at grey toned skies and wished he saw blue, like the skies in the history books, in the pictures--the Old World. The boy grew up and did law, like his parents, serving the ones who need his help. He wants to make a difference, leave this world better than he came into it.

Decades later, Alex looks at a reflection of that boy. Not quite the same. Maybe Henry looked at stars instead of skies. Maybe his world is free from irradiated soil and dust storms. Yet his heart is at the right place, beating for change.

He walks down the ramp, one step at a time. Standing in front of him, Alex notices Henry is taller than him. He doesn't know how to feel about their difference in height, yet.

“Okay, you’re in.” He leans in close, so close he feels Henry’s breath on his cheek. “But if I so much suspect you’re two-timin’ me, I’m throwing you out the airlock. Got it?”

Henry swallows deeply. “Absolutely.”

***

"Make yourself at home. Quarters are upstairs, along with the kitchen-dining room hybrid," Alex tells Henry as they enter _The Unreliable._ "Mind the cleaning robot."

SAM-5000 whirs distantly on the top floor.

"I'm usually downstairs in the cargo hold." Nora flashes a peace sign and disappears to her usual spot.

Henry glances around the foyer, his eyes twinkling, lips slightly parted in awe. Entering a new home is a wondrous experience. Alex wishes he had the opportunity as well when he crashed on Halcyon.

"You never told me your name," Henry says.

"Oh, uhm...it's Alex Claremont-Diaz," Alex replies, his palms sweaty all of a sudden.

" _Welcome back, Captain Alex Hawthorne!"_ DIA announces. _"I see you brought a new friend."_

"Did the ship just call you Alex Hawthorne?” Henry asks, furrowing his brows.

"Buy me dinner and a drink and I'll tell you all about it, sweetheart."

Henry laughs, a faint blush on his cheeks. "If you say so."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets mad at an inanimate object, Nora sneaks off to find info on what the Board is doing, and Henry makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** violence, descriptions of blood and gore, descriptions of a dead body, an animal does get hurt (but they're okay)

_The Unreliable_ docks at a silver space station orbiting Terra-2. _ROSEWAY GARDENS_ in bold letters mark the hull, glimmering like the stars which surround it. Alex touches the window in the cockpit. _Roseway Gardens_ deserves a place as beautiful as its name, evoking a sense of wonder as a rose garden.

But Alex isn’t here to gawk at silver space stations or appraise whichever scientist came up with the name. He checks his pistol. Nora had given him tips while he prepared in the cargo hold, but the mechanics are still fuzzy.

Hopefully, Alex doesn’t have to use it. Alex makes a list before walking out of _The Unreliable._

  1. Find Pascal and return him to _The Groundbreaker_
  2. Get navkey from Pascal
  3. Go to Zahra’s station to install it?
  4. Monarch?



Yeah, this is not a solid plan but at least it’s something.

***

 _Roseway Gardens_ is neither a garden nor does it smell like roses. The potted flowers arranged at the landing zone might have, if they weren't plastic. Alex presses his arm over his nose. They reek of wet dogs, enveloping the LZ in a thick pungent smell. _The Gardens_ ' entrance is glued shut, controlled by a terminal bolted on the wall.

"Looks like it requires a passcode," Henry says, muffled by the collar he’s pulled over his nose.

Nora pushes up her scarf. She flexes her fingers, and starts typing on the terminal. Lines of code populate the screen. He understands nothing of it. For all he knows, Nora is writing code which will trigger a bomb inside. But it's fascinating, watching the characters run from one end to the other like a stream.

"Done!" she says. At a single press of a key, the door clicks.

"Damn, that was fast," Alex says.

"Just a simple algorithm really," she says, her eyes fixed on the terminal, "which says a lot about what this station cares about."

"Definitely not locked doors for sure," he jests.

"Close--for a space station supposed to lead the innovation of Halcyon, their cybersecurity is really shitty." She turns to him. "Seriously, a newbie hacker could crack this."

"Well, the Board's thinking about ceasing operations in _Roseway,_ " Henry says. "They see the station as collateral damage."

"Huh, I thought _Roseway_ holds key infrastructure for Halcyon's survival. The Board funnels so much money into it, like, most of the profits at the saltuna factory in Edgewater go to funding _Roseway Gardens_."

Henry laughs shakily. "Must be... erm...a rumour I heard in Byzantium."

"Soo…" Alex says, "are we going to go in now?"

"I'm trying to find us a map," Nora says, then her face becomes pale, reflected on the screen. Alex peers at the terminal, which is playing clip after clip of vid. What he sees is a massacre. Combat drones and sentry bots open fire at scientists. In another clip, a sentry bot slams a scientist into the wall, _hard_. Their skull splits; pink tissue appears at the cut. They mutter something Alex cannot hear as the vid has no sound. From reading their lips, he thinks the scientist said _please stop_.

The bot bashes and bashes their head until they hang limply from its claw, their face unrecognizable, a mess of blood and brain. The bot carelessly drops the scientist on the floor. It walks away without looking back, without remorse.

The vid ends. And it’s just him and Nora on the screen. Alex’s stomach churns. He blinks away an image of a different mangled person, a corpse rotting under an escape pod.

“What--what the fuck happened here?” Nora says, her voice raspy, fingers trembling over the keyboard.

“Let’s just.” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. “Find the engineer and get out of here.”

“You think he’s still alive?” Henry asks, furrowing his brow.

“He has to be,” Alex says, unable to hide the tremble in his tone. “What the fuck are we here for if he’s dead?”

Henry says nothing, his eyes dark. Nora opens the door and they walk inside.

***

 _Roseway Gardens_ is divided into three sections, four counting the room they’re in--the Atrium. Two hallways fork from the Atrium. The one in front leads to the laboratory, and the one on the right leads to the office terminals. The last section, the Sun Room is only accessible through the lab.

Nora shows them a holo of each room, except for the Sun Room. The camera is offline in that section and her hacking attempts are blocked. Alex hugs his body.

They agree to split their search between the lab and the office terminals. Nora volunteers to check the office terminals alone.

“Based on the map, 99% of the sentries are offline.” She points out the greyed circles at each room. “I can hack into them if I need to. And I do have my shotgun.”

“What’s got you interested in the office terminals, anyway?” asks Alex.

“It’s their mainframe,” she says. "The mainframe of the most important R&D station in Halcyon. Who knows what secrets they hide in there?”

Alex hesitates.

"I'll be fine, really." Nora slings an arm around his shoulders and rubs his hair. "And you’ve got Henry, who can, like save you from the evil robots."

"Yeah, like he can save me from anything," he says, fixing the mess Nora made with his hair. "Chances are he's the one running to me in distress."

Henry grins. "If anyone needs saving it's _you_."

"You two watch out for each other, okay?" Nora taps the skin below her ear. "I'll be on the comm link."

"Ping us when you get into trouble," Henry says.

She salutes and spins towards the right hallway, leaving Alex alone with Henry at this creepy station. Great. He hugs his body tighter, shivering; it's not from the ventilation.

He looks over at Henry. "Don't drag us down."

"I won't disappoint," he says.

The hallway leading to the laboratory is weirdly empty. Yes, there are dried pools of blood on the pristine floors but no presence of the scientists they occupied. Alex doesn’t dare imagine where the bodies must have gone to. The only exit on _Roseway Gardens_ is in _space_.

A hand touches his back. Alex jumps, reaching for his pistol. He spins around. And it's just Henry, _just_ Henry.

“The door to the laboratory is to your right,” he says cooly, professionally as if they’re not walking through a morgue of _Roseway_ ’s scientists. “I can open it.”

He moves past him to the sliding door. He touches the keypad on the lock, pressing buttons on his terminal.

Henry looks at Alex. “Everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” Alex says.

Henry is unconvinced.

He says again, his jaw set. “I’m fine, _really_. Just get the door open.”

“You look pale. That’s all.” Henry resumes tinkering with the keypad. He draws his brows together, sweat beading from his forehead. The keypad beeps three times. Light sparks from it and smoke wafts in the hall.

“Shit,” he mutters, rubbing his forefingers with his thumb. “We might have a small problem with the door.”

“What?” Alex says. “It opened. I heard it beep nicely.”

As if on cue, the door slides open and stops, the slit large enough to fit one hand. Henry tries pushing it. “It’s stuck.”

"Damn it!" Alex kicks the door, the impact stinging his foot. "Fuck!"

The sound of ringing metal reverberates across the hallway. He bites his lip, holding his throbbing foot and limping.

“Do you want me to check it out?” Henry says, pointing at his foot.

Before he tells him _no_ , Nora calls. " _By the way, I'd be careful about_ \--" she cuts off, and Henry's terminal rings. " _What did he do? I'm assuming he did it cause he's not known to be quiet."_

"You know I can still hear you," Alex says, leaning at that stupid door. The ache burns.

"He kicked a door," Henry answers, his mouth upturned, a mocking gesture. Alex shoots a glare at him.

 _"Yeah, I'd be careful about getting mad at doors_ ," she says." _Looking at this terminal, there are a bunch of sentries still active somewhere in Roseway. I don't think they heard you but just in case you get mad at another inanimate object. Maybe don't kick it?"_

"Should have told me that before I stubbed my toe."

 _"Then don't kick doors._ " Alex imagines her shrugging nonchalantly.

"Did you find anything about the missing engineer?" he asks, rubbing his boot-covered toe.

 _"No, still looking. But I did find a cute canid vid on someone's terminal,"_ she replies, and he hears the grin in her voice. _"That's what we call a dog, by the way, Alex."_

"I know what a canid is." He gingerly puts his foot down, wiggling his toes. The ache has cooled.

"Anyway, we're still checking on our side. We're stuck because of this stupid door." He slides his hand in the opening, pushing one side; it doesn't budge. "It opened but it's stuck."

" _Hmm…_ " He hears the clacking of a keyboard, and a machine buzzing. _"Nope, can't open it from here."_

"Damn it!"

Henry warns. "Don't kick the door again."

"Wasn't going to," he hisses, "And why don't you--I don't know--try and find something that can hold this open? Show me you're actually useful like what you said on _The Groundbreaker_?"

Henry furrows his brow and huffs. Crossing his arms, he walks to the other side of the hall. And Alex, whose brain has now connected with his mouth, realizes the terrible thing he has said. _Shit._

 _"Looks like you need to sort some things out_." Nora ends the call.

Alex is alone with this goddamn door and Henry, who he just pissed off.

_Shit, Alex, you fucked up._

But it's not like they can wait by the door until the answer is written in the stars. There’s _The Hope_ , and thousands of capable people who can fix Halcyon: scientists, innovators, teachers, artists, leaders like his parents. The system needs them awake before the doomsday clock hits midnight.

If Henry knows he can't be useful besides shooting a gun and cleaning up wounds, then he shouldn't have bothered them on _The Groundbreaker_.

He considers, as his legs carry him to the other end, what happens if a man who is sheltered due to his family and his privilege is tasked with a very important, life-threatening mission and requires skills he has never had before?

Okay, fine, he's just talking about himself.

But seriously, Henry knows a lot more useful shit than him. Alex is best at two things: never shutting up, and bothering people endlessly until he gets what he wants or is told to fuck off. Sometimes both. Who needs those when everything in Halcyon is solved with guns and cutthroat deals?

He should still talk to Henry. Apologize.

Henry is leaning against a crate, one knee bent and balancing his journal. The soft light smooths his hard edges, highlighting the cut of his cheekbones and the point of his nose. His hair shines like a golden fleece, and his eyes, even under hooded lids, look impossibly blue. This is all artistically poised like Henry walked into an artist's painting and became their muse.

"Oh hey, uhmm," he starts, "I see you're getting to work, describing this--" he scans the area, "chromatic...station?"

"I found that thing," Henry says without looking up from his journal, "you can use it to open the door."

He bends his foot, pointing at the long metal pipe in front of him, one end flat and the other sharpened.

"Hey, I--uh…" he scratches his neck, finding it oddly hot. "Look, what I said was really shitty and terrible, and oh god, I shouldn't have said it."

Henry finally looks up, his expression impassive.

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry." It comes off as a snark rather than a genuine apology. He should really watch what his mouth says.

Henry closes his journal with a loud snap.

"If I didn't think I would be bloody helpful then I wouldn't have asked to come along," he says, his voice low. "Some of us don't go running headlong into danger."

"Hey, it's not like I wanted this," Alex snaps, throwing his hands up "You know what I was back on Earth? A lawyer, an _intern_ lawyer. You think I'm the most qualified person to save Halcyon?"

"I would try to be more careful about it."

"Okay, but you won't know that." Alex sighs, sitting beside him. "Before I got here, I thought I'd be working in an office but Halcyon's gone to shit. I'm really just trying my best here, and I’d really appreciate it if you help me try."

A small smile forms on Henry's lips. Alex mimics it.

Henry nudges his shoulder. "Say, were you scared?"

"About what? Like the journey to space? Yeah, space is fucking terrifying,” Alex says.

"It's not bad once you get used to seeing the vast emptiness of the galaxy instead of a sky," Henry muses.

"As I said, terrifying."

“I don’t know, there’s a certain allure to it.” Henry flashes a grin as bright as the stars looking out the window. “Flying on your own ship, seeing different planets and the scenery they offer.”

“Says the travel writer,” Alex says, poking Henry’s arm. “Anyway, let’s open that door and get into the laboratory."

Alex stands up. He stretches, sighing as his muscles loosen from being in an uncomfortable position. He hoists Henry up, noticing the calluses on his palm. Henry looks away, scratching his neck. Alex notes the faint flush in his cheeks, spreading to his ears. He must be exhausted already.

Alex picks up the pipe, light in his hands, and heads back to the door.

***

The sliding door opens easily with the bar and Alex and Henry’s combined strength. The laboratory is pitch black when they enter. Alex taps his terminal twice, turning the flashlight on. A row of shelves line the wall, curling at the edge of a corridor. Each shelf is filled with books, binders, datapads and jars containing a feather, an eye or a claw--lots of claws.

“What the hell were they doing here?” Alex mutters, not looking for an answer.

There is a shelf at the end of the corridor which is filled with only glowing silver liquid in jars. Cylindrical tanks line the wall across from the, large enough to fit a human. All tanks are empty except for one. This tank is filled to the brim with the same liquid as the one in the jars. The human inside looks to be asleep.

“Whoa,” Alex breathes. He points his light at the screen on the tank. It reads, _Experiment-4159 - FAILURE_ and a cross sign next to it. Alex looks again at the person in the tank. Their head hangs limply. Skin pigments around arms and feet appear crimson with purple blotches at their fingertips and toes. No air bubbles escape their lips.

“Are they--are they dead?” Alex says, his heart pumping behind his throat. He feels lightheaded, his neck hot and pricked with goosebumps. Henry has a steady hand on his back which keeps him from falling over.

(Seeing a dead body for the third time is worse than the first.)

“Death by asphyxiation,” Henry reads in a small, shaky voice. “Subject failed to resuscitate after seven days in cryo--”

A crash.

Alex reaches for his pistol. “What was that?”

Henry jumps behind a shelf. He unholsters his pistol, and casts Alex a disgruntled look, tilting his head. Alex shrugs. He shakes his head, unsure of what Henry wants or means. There's another crash in the next room. Henry mouths, _hide_ , tilting his head towards the metal barrier across from him. Alex moves behind the barrier. He takes his pistol out because Henry has his pistol out too. He hears footsteps in the other room, heavier and slower than a human's. _Thump-thump._ Beads of sweat form on his brow. He counts his breaths.

A shower of gunfire bursts through their room, shattering the empty glass tanks. Alex brings his arm up, shielding his face from the debris.

The gunfire stops. Reloads. Alex peeks into the room. It's pitch dark now but he knows the floating red eye belongs to a sentry robot. The bot sees him. _Thump-thump_. Alex pushes up against the barrier. He swipes on his terminal's screen, searching for the targeting system.

Henry throws a jar of silver liquid at the bot. _Thump-thump_. The liquid coats the bot’s round head. It caves around its circular eye, and drips down its hull, glowing. The bot turns. Henry flicks his wrist, firing a couple of rounds from his pistol. The bullets strike the bot’s shining hull just as the bot aims. Henry presses his back against the shelf. The bot unleashes torrents of bullets, striking the wall but not penetrating it. A stray bullet shaves splinters off the shelf, a hair of an inch away from Henry’s face.

Alex feels his heart clench and release, as if he is the one who escaped death. And _he’s_ not the one getting shot at.

"What the hell are you doing?" Henry hisses.

“I’ll be right there. I just--” Alex says, his face hot. The interface on his targeting system isn’t loading fast enough.

Henry fires at the bot again. The bot whirs. Smoke fills the air, spreading into their side of the corridor.

He eyes Alex’s terminal. “You can’t aim, can’t you?”

“Shut up! It’s not like they had mandatory arms training in law school!” He peeks into the room. Sparks jump from the bot, its hull pocked with bullet dents. Alex aligns his targeting system, the crosshairs squeezing at the bot's eye. He fires. The bullet strikes, pushing into the bot's head as if soft clay. The sentry bot falls; the impact rings like a bell.

The room goes quiet for a few moments as they both chase their breath.

Henry eventually grins. "So _you_ can't aim."

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Alex snaps.

The light flickers on. Someone walks into the laboratory. Alex tenses up, an iron grip on his pistol.

"Oh, hi! There you are!" Nora waves.

Alex's whole body exhales. He rushes towards Nora, pulling her into a tight hug. She laughs, smelling of gunpowder and smoke.

"It's good to see you," Alex says.

"Missed me already, Alejandro?" she teases, rubbing his hair. This time, he's too tired to fucking care if she messed it up. "And here I thought you and Henry were enjoying your little date."

"It's not a date!" Alex's face flushes, crossing his arms. "As if I would ever date him."

"Right." Henry chuckles, avoiding eye contact. He shifts his gaze at the gash on Nora's arm.

"Nora, your arm is bleeding," Henry says, rummaging through his pack.

"Oh, uhm." Her lips twist into a grimace, covering the gash with her hand. "It's nothing. I can patch it up when we get back on _The Unreliable_."

Nora scans the shattered glass on the floor, the dents on the metal wall, the empty bullet shells, and the flecks of wood shavings by the shelf. "What happened here?"

"Killer robot attacked us," Alex says.

"I might have an answer for the killer robots, actually." Nora purses her lips. She opens her terminal, projecting a vid. It starts with a bald man investigating sentry bots and the drones. In the next clip, the man is in a different room, typing furiously on a terminal. A sentry bot fires at nondescript scientists, behind him.

"Security feed from the lab," she says. "The man in the vid is Pascal."

"Why do you think he did it?" Alex asks in a small voice.

"I _know_ he did it." A holo is projected on Nora's terminal which looks to be a list of commands. "This activity feed is from our missing engineer's account. If you scroll towards the end, you'll see--"

She scrolls down the holo. Nora highlights the last three lines.

_[Admin] SWITCH TARGET  
_ _[Admin] NEW TARGET - Organics - ALL  
_ _[Admin] ACTIVATED KILLSWITCH_

Alex's blood turns cold.

"Why would he do something like that?" Henry asks frowning.

"I don't know." Nora shrugs. "His account was really encrypted so I couldn't investigate beyond checking the activity. He was writing a bunch of reports about Project Lazarus though. Must be for sending back to Amy."

"Project Lazarus?" Henry asks.

"I checked the other accounts to try and figure out what Project Lazarus means, but it's a lot of encrypted stuff. I couldn't make much of it." She scratches her forearm. "But whatever this project is, it's _really_ important to the Board. Like, the supervisor of Project Lazarus is Jeffrey Richards."

Lazarus. Alex searches his brain for the reference. He recalls a San Lazaro in his abuelita's journals, about Lazaro-- _Lazarus_ who is resurrected after his death of four days. (His Dad brought those journals over from the California Republic.) His eyes dart towards the body in the glass tank, whose status says: _failure to resuscitate_. Does Project Lazarus have something to do with the experiments in the tank? If so, what does Richards want from them and why?

Henry brings Nora towards the tank with the body. "We found this. It's rather...err...creepy. Did the project mention anything about live experiments in tanks?"

"Maybe?" Nora taps her chin. "Like I said, a lot about Project Lazarus is encrypted."

"Anyway, we should find that missing engineer," Alex says, "see if he can answer some questions about this place."

They head into the room where the sentry bot had attacked. This part of the laboratory is a simple room, containing two long desks joined together at a corner. The desks have two terminals on them, one has blood on its screen. As expected, the bot is in the middle of the floor on it's back, its eye cracked and a bullet hole in the middle of its head. What is unexpected are the flecks of dried blood coating its claws and arms. Alex considers a number of possibilities, none of them good.

Across from them is another opening leading to a different part of the laboratory. On the left wall is a metallic door, labeled the Sun Room. Alex tries the door. It's locked.

"Hey, that's the terminal Pascal used turning on the robots against everyone." Nora says, pointing at the terminal with the bloodstain.

"No Pascal," Alex says, his voice breaking.

"But hey, there's the navkey." Nora points at the glass card on the desk, the word: _Monarch Stellar Industries_ etched on it. Dark red splotches speckle the glass--dried blood. Whose blood? Alex doesn’t think he can stomach thinking about dead bodies anymore and the names--the _lives_ once attached to them.

He gingerly picks up the navkey, careful he doesn't touch the blood. He puts it in his pocket, and exhales a sigh of relief. Finally, they’ve done something _right_. But there’s still the dread--the _anxiety_ crawling on his skin. They lost the engineer, Pascal, the person they came here for and they don’t even have a body they can return to _The Groundbreaker_. Alex rubs his eyes. He’s sick of this fucking place.

Nora hops on a desk, typing on her terminal. "I'm gonna see if we can get more data from Pascal's terminal."

"You're gonna use the terminal?" Alex asks, eyeing the bloodied terminal in disgust.

"No, of course not! Have you seen that thing? I'll just hack into it with _my_ terminal and extract data from there."

Alex scans the room. Henry has disappeared. Dread mixed with anxiety churns in his gut.

"I'm going to find Henry," he says, taking out his pistol.

"Yeah, you go do that," Nora says, without looking up from her terminal.

He checks the room they came from. No Henry. _Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he go?_ He goes back. Nora is still on the table, typing away on her terminal. She doesn't look up when he comes in with leaden footsteps. Alex checks the next room.

Henry is there, alive. He isn't the only living creature in this room, though. Perched on Henry's lap is a canid, putting its brown furry paws on his chest. Shattered tanks line the wall. These tanks are smaller than the ones they saw in the other room.

That's where the canid must have come from, Alex thinks.

Henry sees him. He cradles the canid to his chest.

“Wait, don’t shoot him!” Henry says. “Although I probably shouldn’t have to ask you since you can’t aim.”

“Shut up!” he says, lowering his pistol. “Ugh, just tell me why you decided to run off and find a canid?”

Henry taps on the screen at the canid’s pod.

"These scientists were mixing different canid breeds to create the perfect guard for the Board. Of course, their plan backfired when our dear engineer turned the bots to kill everyone, including the canids.” The canid nuzzles Henry’s side. “This one, he’s the only survivor.”

Red paw prints smear the floor. They stop at the canid’s pod, and that’s when Alex notices the wound on his leg, a small bullet hole, black and leaking with blood.

“Poor boy,” he says, crouching, “he’s hurt.” Alex reaches for his snout. The canid hisses, baring its sharp and pointy teeth, which turns into a whine.

“It’s okay. He’s a friend.” Henry coos, rubbing the canid under his chin. "Not the best friend, but still a friend."

The canid shakes its head, barking happily. Alex reaches for his snout again. He sniffs his hand and slobbers saliva all over.

"Eugh," he wrinkles his nose, wiping his hand on the floor. "That's gonna smell like a wet dog for days."

Henry laughs. "I think he likes you."

"You two alive?" Nora peeks from the corridor. She spots the canid, rubbing its crown on Henry's leg. "Whoa! A canid! That's so cute."

Henry lifts the canid, holding his waist. The canid barks happily. "He's very friendly."

He gently places the dog on the ground. Nora kneels on the floor, rubbing and cooing at the dog.

"Tell me we're keeping him!" Nora says, and then at Alex. "Please?"

"Of course we are." He chuckles. "I mean I'm not gonna leave a dog in this creepy place. But we gotta treat his injury first." He looks at Henry. "Think you can fix him up?"

Henry inspects the canid's paw. "I think we need a vet for this."

"Think there's a vet on _The Groundbreaker_?" Alex asks.

"I remember seeing one," Henry answers, his brows furrow. "Wait, we're going back to _The Groundbreaker_?"

"Yeah, I mean, we gotta tell Amy about Pascal and deliver data," Alex says, "might as well get your dog looked at and get supplies."

" _My_ dog?"

"You did find him. It's only fair." Alex gets up to leave. "Anyway, let's get the fuck out of here. I've had enough of this station for a lifetime."

They waste no time making their exit, and Alex watches _The Unreliable_ leave _Roseway Gardens_ from the cockpit. He sits on the pilot’s chair, feeling less like a pilot and more a man wearing pilot’s clothes and taking on a pilot’s name. (Which again, it’s not _his_ fault the stupid ship doesn’t have protocol to change the name.) Henry stands on his right, carrying his new furry friend. The canid nuzzles his chest. Henry rubs his ears, cooing. It’s cute. (The canid. _Not_ Henry.) Nora sits on the edge of the arm rest, wrapping her arms around the back of the chair.

 _Roseway Gardens_ disappears into the darkness of space, a twinkle among the stars. Nora hops off the arm rest, moving to Henry’s side and rubbing the canid’s fur.

"Whatcha gonna name him?" Nora asks, bouncing on her heels.

"Oh uhm." He runs his hands over the canid's fur. He smiles. "I'm going to call him David."

"David?" Alex spins the pilot's chair to face him. "What kind of person names a dog _David_?"

"After David Bowie," Henry answers, shooting him a glare. "You know? Ziggy Stardust, glam rock space icon with bisexual tendencies?"

"Yeah, I know who David Bowie is. Cultural icons don’t fade into nonexistence after the apocalypse. People find them in holotapes and vids. Maybe they resurrect them and they’re just as iconic," Alex says. His left eye twitches. "Or they give them new meaning, like the Cult of Kings.”

“The Cult of Kings? Interesting.” Henry’s eyes sparkle.

“They're a bunch of Elvis impersonators. Trust me, it’s not as awesome as it sounds.” Alex stretches his arms above his head. “But you know, the craziest shit always happens in New Vegas. The Commonwealth is so boring in comparison.”

Henry sits on the edge of the arm rest, his body close. Alex feels the heat radiating off him. His brain keeps tumbling on something like the cut of Henry’s cheekbones, or the slant of his jaw. Or he’s just fucking tired and Henry’s in his space.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a lot of exciting things about The Commonwealth,” Henry says with a grin.

“Easy. Radiation, dust storms, selfish asshole politicians who only care about themselves and not rebuilding the nation.”

“Then you could leave, go to New Vegas and see the excitement.”

“I left, didn’t I?”

Henry’s mouth draws into a thin line. His lips quirk, about to say something but he shifts his gaze away.

Alex crosses his arms, changing the subject. “Anyway, I’m surprised y’all know David Bowie at all, considering you know nothing about _Star Wars_ and _James Bond_.

" _Star Wars_ sounds like a dumb name for _Stars Among Empires_ ," Nora says.

"Exactly."

 _The Unreliable_ arrives on _The Groundbreaker_ just as quickly as she left _Roseway_. Alex feels the navkey in his pocket, relieved it’s still there. Henry wants to stay on _The Unreliable_ with David and call the vet to check him on the ship. Alex wonders why he won’t just bring the dog to the vet’s office, instead of asking the vet to drag equipment across the promenade. David whimpers in Henry’s arms and he thinks the dog probably needs the peace and quiet.

So, Alex and Nora visit Amy’s office again, this time without annoying sentry bots who kidnap unsuspecting citizens.

“Pascal’s dead and we couldn’t find his body,” Alex says upon entering her office.

“Take a seat,” she orders, gesturing at the bench, “and tell me what happened.”

They tell her everything, from the sentry bots killing all the scientists in _Roseway_ , the experiments in the tanks, the canids, how they found the navkey but not the engineer, and Project Lazarus and its supervisor, Jeffrey Richards. (Amy’s lips quirk at the mention of the name and the project.) Alex leaves out the stuff about Pascal turning the bots against the scientists. There’s enough tragedy in this story.

“I...see,” Amy says, slowly and carefully, the tremor in her voice betraying her steeled expression.

“Do you know anything about Project Lazarus?” Alex asks. “‘Cause Pascal was gathering a lot of data on it.”

Amy regards them for a moment. She stands up and crosses the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Yes,” she says.“Project Lazarus was the confidential intel Pascal had and no, unfortunately I don’t know much about it other than the strange experiments on _Roseway Gardens_.”

The people in the tanks, Alex thinks.

“I initially heard about scientists in _Roseway_ moving forward to human testing on a project despite failing the initial trials with sprats,” she continues. ”They told me it was direct orders from Jeffrey Richards. So I contacted him, wrote several proposals asking to investigate _Roseway_ and the project but I was denied each time.” She scowls, her brows slanting downward. “That’s when I told Pascal to gather intel on _Roseway_ during a supply run. And I see he had...other plans.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alex says.

“Pascal was a good man. I don’t agree with his decision, but I’m sure he had his reasons for doing that.”

“We did get some of his intel,” Nora says, showing a holograph of the data she gathered in _Roseway_. “Not a lot since it’s all encrypted, but it’s something.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She smiles wearily. “That’s more than we could have asked for.”

Alex spots a box on her desk, wrapped in brown packing paper. On the box, it says _To: Henry Fox-_

“Hey, you know Henry?” Alex asks.

“He stayed with us actually,” Amy says, a bewildered look crossing her face. “Was really nice and entertained Naomi with his opinions on books, poetry and classical music so I made him a gift. I was going to mail it to him in Byzantium.”

“I can give it to him,” Alex offers. “He’s on our ship right now.”

“You know, I’m surprised that you have a--” Amy’s terminal rings. She glances at the device on her arm. “Looks like someone got into trouble with the sentry bots again. I gotta go check this out.”

She hands the box to Alex, patting it delightedly. “I also asked the food stalls to stock your ship with produce, meats, alcohol and anything that isn't saltuna.”

“Hey, saltuna’s a perfectly fine substitute for any and all meals,” Nora jests, making a face.

“Thank you, chief,” Alex says.

“No, thank _you_. Now you better go.” Amy grins. “I heard the guy who messed with the sentry bots is a pretentious asshole like Kingsley.”

***

“Set a course for Zahra’s station,” Alex tells DIA, the order growing familiar on his tongue. “I’m inputting the coordinates.”

“Of course, Captain,” DIA says.

Alex feels the navkey in his pocket. In a few hours, Zahra will install it on _The Unreliable_ and they can go to Monarch to meet with this contact of hers--the Man on the Moon. Then they find the formula and revive everyone on _The Hope_.

This is still not a solid plan. Truthfully, Alex doesn’t know if it’ll ever be more than _something_.

Alex slides into the captain’s chair between Nora and Henry, popping open a can of Zero Gee Brew. This is his crew, he realizes, the people who will help him free Halcyon from the Board’s clutches. Nora leans at the base of the chair with her beer can trapped between her legs. To his right, Henry drinks his own can of Zero Gee, David curled up at his feet. Henry’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Alex’s gaze keeps darting to the whipcord muscle of his arm, his flushed cheeks from the alcohol, and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a drink.

Alex looks away from Henry, takes a sip too, finding his throat parched. The beer tastes like fermented leaf water and doesn’t make his head go fuzzy as well as the spirits on Earth but it is something. He hopes Halcyon can be more than _just_ something--a true place for humanity’s fresh start for all, not just for the Board.

 _The Unreliable_ takes flight. The stars zip into view--a familiar scene, now--as she goes into hyperspeed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warnings:** alcohol use.
> 
> Also sort of a fun fact the SALL-E in this chapter is named after Sally Ride, the third woman in space and the first queer person in space.

Zahra’s station is carved into an asteroid, floating at the outskirts of Halcyon. There's a large circular window at the face of a crater which opens when a ship flies by. _The Unreliable_ zips in, slowly descending on the station's landing zone. Alex walks out of the ship. Unlike the pristine metallic walls inside Zahra’s station, the landing zone is mostly rock and rusted metal. Zahra leans on the railing on the stairs, with June.

June sees Alex and runs, meeting him halfway up the stairs. She pulls him into a hug. He relaxes in her arms, and it’s like the terrible things he saw--those _bodies_ \--puff into a plume of white smoke. Someone in Halcyon knows him before _Alex Hawthorne_ , someone who _knows_ him from the skid marks in his drawers to the strange things he stuffed in the cushions on the White House’s windowsill.

“I never knew how much I hated silence until you weren’t there to ruin it,” she says, squeezing tightly.

Alex groans but he says, “Aww, I missed you too Bug.”

June is not in _The Hope's_ mandated space suit, but in a simple ruby leather jacket with a taupe shirt underneath, an earthy green scarf, and dark pants tucked into boots. She looks just like a spacer.

Alex cocks an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you long to get out of that space suit, huh?”

“The blue and white combo did nothing for my complexion." She chuckles, tugging her scarf. “Zahra wanted to make sure I blended in before I joined you guys, so we went through her closet. She also got me some hand-me downs from her contacts.”

(Wow, sure would have been nice if Zahra could have helped him blend in before dropping him at Emerald Vale in his fucking space suit.)

He catches Henry and Nora walking down the ship and waves them over.

"Okay so June, I'd like you to meet my crew I guess," Alex says, gesturing at his sister and then to Henry and Nora. "This is my sister, June--June, this is my crew."

"I'm Nora." Nora shakes June's hand. "I make sure the ship and Alex's ass aren't on fire."

"I'm surprised he hasn't burned down the ship," June says, "knowing him and the parlour room incident."

"I think you and I are going to be great friends," Nora concludes with a crooked grin. "Tell me more about this parlour room incident."

"Okay, that's enough." Alex cuts between them, blushing furiously. He points at Henry. "This is Henry. He's like our de facto medic since he does have his own med kit and ‘cause I don't expect Nora to patch wounds anytime soon."

"It's nice to meet you," Henry says.

"Henry's a journalist actually," Alex says, shifting on his feet. "He's with us to work on a travel journal about Halcyon."

"I wouldn't call it a journal just yet," Henry says, going red around the ears. "But yes, that is what er...the Halcyon Observer assigned me to do."

“Oh, I wrote columns for the Commonwealth Times on Earth. Lifestyle columns mostly, like fashion and travel for the post-post apocalyptic woman.” She makes a face. “But seriously, if you need someone to look at it, just send it over.”

“Err...thank you,” Henry says, glancing at Alex, “but Alex told me that you were still recovering after a coma.”

“June is cleared for duty,” Zahra says. She narrows her eyes at Henry, though she is addressing Alex when she says "And I need to speak to you in private."

Zahra takes him aside, atop the flight of stairs. She extends an open-faced hand. “Where’s the navkey.”

"Oh right." Alex fetches the glass card from his pocket, the impressions glinting without the speckled blood.

“Thanks.” She pockets the glass card. “You did good. I’ll install it in your ship momentarily.”

“What? Surprised that I didn’t die between Emerald Vale and here?”

Zahra draws her lip to a thin line, walking down the stairs. “Yes, actually, but you should know before you, I was working with an actual dumbass. So my expectations were quite low.”

(Ha. Beat that, real Alex Hawthorne.)

His eyes drift over to the docking bay where June, Nora and Henry are engrossed in deep conversation. He’s happy June manages to fit in so easily.

“Say, uh...we found the card in a station called _Roseway Gardens_ ,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek; nausea rises up his throat at the taste of blood. “And there was mention of a Project Lazarus. Heard anything about it?”

“Project Lazarus, huh?” Zahra taps a manicured finger on her chin. “My contacts haven’t reported anything about a project with that name.”

“It’s supervised by Jeffrey Richards.”

“The Chief Director?”

"Yeah, Amy Chen heard a rumour about sketchy experiments happening on _Roseway_ ," Alex says, “tried to get it investigated but Richards denied her request.”

"I see," Zahra drags out the syllables. "I've heard of Richards' involvement in science projects, but never directly. I'll see if I can find more info from my contacts."

Silence passes between them. Zahra looks at the trio at the docking bay.

"I'm curious about the companions you keep," Zahra says.

"Oh, Nora's totally cool. She worked at the saltuna factory in Edgewater and she totally helped me out in--oh, you mean Henry, obviously." Alex stops, and then continues, his hands moving absently as he talks. "I know he's from Byzantium or whatever and his Dad is a propaganda star but he really wants to help out, and he's way nicer than a lot of the Board bootlickers."

Zahra blinks. A pause. She inhales, squeezing her hand to a fist.

"It'd be stupid to ask you to kick him out so I won't do that," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just be careful."

Alex looks at Henry. His head is thrown back mid laugh possibly from a joke by Nora. Why would he need to be careful around him? He's too nice to be spying for the Board.

Zahra jabs a finger to his chest. "I mean it, Alex."

Zahra walks away. She disappears behind _The Unreliable_ to finish installing the card. Moments later and with a bit of help from Nora the navkey is installed, and they’re ready to go to Monarch. They return to the ship--Henry and Nora first, and then June with Alex.

 _"Welcome back, Captain Alex Hawthorne!_ ” DIA announces as usual. _“I see you brought a new friend!"_

"Hawthorne?" June raises an eyebrow. "Like the Hawthorne smuggler Zahra keeps complaining about?"

"Uhhhhh--"

She puts her hand on her hips. "Alex, what did you do?"

What did he _not_ do? Tears well at the corner of his eyes, and for the first time since crashing into Halcyon, he lets himself cry. June just wraps her arms around him and sits him on the floor, cooing _it’s okay, it’s okay_. He wants to believe her, he really does. There are a hundred thousand sleepers and the entirety of this whole goddamn system counting on him to do the right thing. The weight of responsibility sinks into his gut as any object sucked into a black hole.

“If it helps,” June says in a feeble voice. “You can lay it out to me.”

"How much has Zahra told you about the mission?" he says wetly.

"I got the gist of it," she says.

He tells her everything anyway, from accidentally crushing Hawthorne with his escape pod, to taking his name due to _The Unreliable_ ’s fucking protocol, to stealing a power generator and the horrible things he saw at _Roseway_ \--that's the hardest one. June listens, doesn't interrupt him, only placing a hand on his knee when his voice breaks.

Alex tells her about his worries too, and his fears of sending Halcyon to their doom; how Zahra picked the worst person for the job.

That’s when June speaks up.

“Just ‘cause you’re not trained to be in this fight, doesn’t mean you can’t win it,” she says, “Zahra picked you for a _reason_ and she trusts you enough that she didn’t find someone else.”

Alex sniffs, his voice watery. “Part of the reason why I’m even in this position is ‘cause I accidentally killed a guy.”

“Alex Hawthorne was a dumbass.”

(Okay, they’ve established that how many times now?)

“And you’ve got all of us, me, Henry, Nora and even Zahra,” she continues. “You’re not the only one on this mission.”

Alex wipes his tears with the back of his hand. June is right. She’s always right.

"If I’m honest. I never wanted to leave Earth," June says, curling her knees under her chin. “Sure, it would be hard since Mom’s enemies fucked us over but I could have--I don’t know--gone to a frontier town somewhere and raised two-headed cows, and a couple of rad chickens.” She looks at Alex, her brown eyes warm and sparkling--a lamp light left on, hanging from a home. “But I came because of you, _all_ of you.”

“You wouldn’t stand the frontier towns,” Alex says, feeling better already. But deep down, there’s a guilt scratching at him. June didn’t want to leave, and no one asked her, not his Mom nor his Dad, not _him_.

“What? You don’t trust my herding skills?” she says, giggling. “Not after I looked out for you for 22 years?”

“Shut up!” he says, and he’s laughing too.

“So.” June gets up. “Does this whole Alex Hawthorne thing mean I could register myself as June Hawthorne?”

Alex sighs, rubbing his temples. “Please don’t.”

***

The ETA for Monarch is three and a half days from Zahra’s station. On the first two days, they don’t do anything different on _The Unreliable_. Nora works on the engines in the cargo hold. June reads datapad, the books Hawthorne has on the ship and whatever information she can find on her terminal. Henry writes in his journal in his room, in the dining room, on the flight of stairs, and in the cockpit while David curls on Alex’s lap.

It’s weird how much Henry writes in his journal. They’ve only been to two places--not counting Zahra’s station--and one of them is a station where the Board’s highly classified experiments take place. He must be writing about the beauty of space travel, Alex thinks, and the wondrous uniformity of _The Unreliable’s_ two floors.

Whenever Alex asks if he can look at Henry’s journal, Henry slams it shut or presses it close to his chest; his ears turn red and he gives a blithe excuse of:

“The editor in chief of the Halcyon Observer made me sign a number of non disclosure agreements, so I can’t share any of my writings with you,” Henry says with a tight smile.

Whatever, Alex doesn’t mind. He’s getting accustomed to Henry’s company. He loves the strange banter they fall into, the eccentric conclusions Henry has about poetry, literature, music and pictures. (“I don’t understand why in this _Star Wars_ , there’s a second Death Star. _Return of the Justicar_ focuses on the grave Ewok Wars of planet Endor, which is more thematic to the overall plot of the Landrunner Saga.”)

And he likes the stillness in between, when Henry falls into his dark moods, and the only sound in the room is the scratching of pen on paper and the thrum of engines on their feet.

**THE SPACE GA(Y)NG MESSAGE BOARD**

**Topic** : WELCOME!  
**Date:** 2355-10-25 2:00 PM (HLCST)  
**By** : SALL-E

WELCOME! THE SPACE GA(Y)NG! THIS IS A MESSAGE BOARD WHERE YOU CAN SEND ANY THOUGHT OR MESSAGE YOU WANT FOR THE WHOLE GA(Y)NG. PLEASE READ THE RULES IN [LINK] AND BE RESPECTFUL AND KIND.

 **nora.holleran  
**oh shit, she worked!!

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
**the fuck is this?  
also why is there admin under my name?

 **nora.holleran  
**cap’s privileges  
just don’t do anything stupid with it  
ive coded SALL-E to take away  
admin privileges as soon as you do something stupid

 **june.claremontdiaz  
**I like the name.  
It’s very descriptive.

 **nora.holleran  
**ty babe! <3  
the default was THE UNRELIABLE CREW MESSAGE BOARD  
which is boring  
so i went with something more fitting  
i mean we’re all queer anyway so

 **henry.fox  
**It looks like David gets an account too.  
I don’t think he has opposable thumbs  
that can manage this account

 **nora.holleran  
**that’s your secret account for posting cute canid holo/vids!!  
which should be at least three times a day

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
**okay  
1) im the captain i get to mandate how many times  
the david account posts shit  
(which is all and any time)  
2) obv i capture better holos than henry  
that’s why u should give me the david account

 **june.claremontdiaz  
**My 21st birthday party would like to question  
your holo and vid skills.

 **david  
**[A blurry vid of David playing with a ball.  
Henry’s voice saying: _whozza good lad?  
_can be heard in the background. ]

 **nora.holleran  
**see this is why i gave @henry.fox the david account  
also btw i’ve found a bottle of whiskey  
in the cargo hold  
mount milgrom i think?  
this thing says triple-distilled  
it tastes expensive and old, idk

 **henry.fox  
**Bring it up for supper tonight  
I can be the judge of that.  
I’ve tasted fine whisky over the years

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
**we get it ur rich  
some of us only had saltuna  
or ate irradiated food

 **june.claremontdiaz  
**Alex, we lived in a mansion on Earth.

 **alex.claremontdiaz**  
bug henry is space rich  
that’s different

June calls a meeting in the dining room. She hands them each a datapad containing a chart with four rows and two columns. Their names are written on the rows, and each column has “Kitchen/Top floor” and “Downstairs” on it, respectively. At the spot where his name and “Kitchen/Top floor” intersect, there’s a checkmark.

They’re chores. June wants them to do chores. They have a galactic system to save, a Board to tear down, and the shiny new SAM-5000, a fucking cleaning robot and June wants them to do chores.

"Alex and Henry, you're both on kitchen duty this week. That means cleaning and cooking meals. Nora and I will take care of downstairs,” she says, “and y'all clean your own rooms.”

Alex raises his hand. "We have a cleaning robot.”

"And?” She puts her hands on her hips. “We had five of those in the White House. Yet Mom still assigned us chores.”

He looks at Henry and Nora. “God, please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this is stupid?”

Nora shrugs. “I already keep my place clean so...plus I get to hang out with June and ask her about all the Earth things you won’t talk about!”

“Hey! I did an excellent job telling you about Earth.”

“And yet you won’t tell me about _The Serial Called Desire_.”

“It’s because he never watched it,” June says.

"Sorry, Bug, I'm not into soapy serials," Alex says.

Nora smiles. “And that’s why I need to hang out with your sister.”

He turns to Henry.

Henry shrugs. “I don’t mind. I think it builds character.”

(Oh my God. Doesn’t he, the captain, have a say in this?)

“Alright! That’s settled then.” June claps her hands. “We can start now! Ooh, if you get done in time we can have dinner that isn’t fish from a can! DIA, what time is dinner?”

DIA’s cool voice comes through the speakers. “Based on our trajectory from the nearest planetary object, the gas giant Eridanos, dinner is in ETA 5 hours. I assume all humans have dinner at 6 o’clock.”

“Not really, but it’s a good estimate,” June says. She turns to Alex. “I guess we’ll see you two in 5 hours?”

She disappears into the hallway, her boots ringing on the metal steps.

“So, just make it edible and taste good. Also don’t kill me, okay?” Nora says, and she disappears into the hallway too.

He thinks this fucking builds character? He probably hasn't held a broom in his life.

***

They find cleaning supplies in the kitchen closet: a mop and a bucket, an old broom, worn out rags and some nameless bottle containing soapy mixture-- _blasphemy_ in the eyes of the Board. Simple things. No vacuum cleaners or floor polishers to make this less of a Herculean task. Alex mixes water and the weird soapy mixture in the bucket. He drops the bucket on the ground, spilling water.

“So what do you wanna do?” he asks. “Tables or floor?”

“I don’t mind either,” Henry says, rolling up his sleeves.

He gives him the rags for cleaning the counters and the dinning table. Alex takes the mop and starts on the floor. They clean the kitchen and dining room in silence. For someone brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth, Henry is surprisingly good at cleaning.

Henry wipes the sweat off his forehead. He twists the rag, his bare arms flexing as water drips from the rag to the bucket. Sweat beads on his skin, running along his forearm, tracing the lines of muscle. Suddenly Alex feels very, _very_ hot. They really need to turn down the thermostat in the kitchen.

After every surface is spotless and they have loaded the dishes in the washer, Alex and Henry begin preparations for dinner. They pick the vegetables _The Groundbreaker_ has stocked them with, all root vegetables or tinned. Hey, they’re supposed to last longer than tomatoes or spinach.

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to dice onions,” Alex says incredulously.

Henry’s brow furrows. “It’s not something I’m proud of, trust me.”

“Guessing you had your chef bots prepare meals for you.”

“Not always bots. Some were chefs my father employed after he finished filming for a picture.”

He sighs. “You can chop the vegetables.”

They set up in the ship’s kitchen, and it’s quiet as they get to work. Alex steals glances at Henry as he massacres the carrots.

“So why does a travel writer learn how to shoot guns instead of how to chop vegetables anyway?” Alex asks.

Henry continues chopping carrots. They’re all oddly shaped, different sizes of circles and squares. Alex doesn't understand how or why since he's cutting from the root. Fine, if he won’t open up, then they can resume making dinner in silence. Alex drops the onions and garlic in the pot, crackling as they hit the oil. Paprika, cumin and cayenne, the only spices in Hawthorne's kitchen drawer, he adds them to the pan with his hands. He squeezes out tomato paste from a tube, stirring it with the onions, garlic and spices. It smells good, like coming home after school to his Dad in the kitchen, insisting to the chefs that he can (and should) cook for his family.

There were a lot of laughs in that kitchen, warm memories of good food and stories bubbling in his chest just thinking about it. Then the fighting began. Oscar Diaz crossed the Dust Bowl states on a sky car and ran for Senate in the California Republic. Alex was 14, split between the Commonwealth and the California Republic, between two halves of the American continent. He starts thinking, and his mind starts wondering. For his 15th birthday, he asked for Old World things, history books and holo tapes and recordings.

“My father taught us," Henry says

“Us?” Alex says, pouring in the vegetable stock—a diluted version of the ones they have on earth, disgusting without a shitload of seasoning. _Luckily_ , Halcyon is also diluted in seasoning.

The recipe calls for a thicker sauce. Hawthorne doesn't have any flour in the cupboards, and neither Edgewater nor Chief Chen loaded their stocks with the staple. No cornstarch either.

They have bread. Bread should work.

“I have a brother and sister," Henry eventually adds. "Both are older than me."

“Ah.” Alex rips out chunks of the bread, which crumbles on his fingers. _Stale_ bread, great. Did Hawthorne eat anything but saltuna, and his paltry spice cabinet?

Henry watches his poor attempt at thickening the stew. “Do you need help with that?”

“No, it’s fine,” Alex says, stirring the pot as the breadcrumbs dissolve in the sauce. “I promise it’ll taste good.”

Henry continues. “As I was saying, we had a summer villa just outside of Byzantium which had this large field where you can take the horses for a ride, skip stones on the pond and hunt fowls.”

“Must be nice to have a summer villa, I barely have one house on Earth.”

“My father set up a shooting range in the field. He wanted us to protect ourselves, even if we had our own guard bots. Halcyon is a lawless place, you couldn't go anywhere without a gun or a knife."

The stew bubbles, dense and thick. Alex swipes a finger down the spoon, licking the sauce. It’s not bad but it’s not great either.

“Wanna try?” He offers the wooden spoon, coated in thick red sauce.

Henry opens the drawer full of forks, spoons and knives. Alex stops him. “Nah, we’re not doing that. Use your fingers.”

He touches the spoon tentatively, as if the sauce is poison which would seep through his skin. Alex wouldn’t do that. At least not awake. Henry licks his sauce-coated finger, sucking off the juice. Alex tugs his collar which feels tight for some reason.

“Better than the professionals?” he asks.

“After two shots of Spectrum vodka, maybe.”

Alex swats him with the spoon, leaving red sauce on his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

They dump the vegetables in the stew, an assortment of celery, carrots, mushrooms and potatoes. They’re all oddly shaped. _What did Henry do to them?_ he thinks. Covering the pot, he turns the knob down to a simmer, and hopes they’ll cook by dinner time.

Alex lets water run over their dirty dishes. Since the washer is in use, they have to wash their used pan and utensils by hand. Henry squeezes a generous amount of dishwashing liquid, emptying half the bottle.

"Why did you come here? It couldn't just be because you wanted to leave," Henry asks. He rubs the sponge along the cutting board, soapy liquid draining down the sink.

"Well, why couldn't it be?" Alex says. "The Earth was a fucking dead rock by the time I was born."

"But that's not you. You don't seem to be the one to move away for the sake of leaving."

"I left because I-- _we_ wanted a fresh start," Alex says, rubbing his own dishcloth hard on the pan. "The Commonwealth, or more honestly, the Senate didn't like that my Mom was pushing for more unity with the other American States so they sabotaged her re-election, and banned her from ever running for office again. But they didn't stop there. They also wanted to punish my sister and I, in case we _think_ of running for office so they blacklisted us from _every_ job in The fucking Commonwealth."

The pan hits the ground, an audible clang shaking around the kitchen. _Shit_. He always gets heated about this. Alex ducks to grab the pan's handle. What he touches isn't cold steel but hands, Henry's hands, soft hands.

"I should wash this again," Henry says.

"Let's just--let's just throw it in the washer after dinner," Alex says, rubbing his hand where it feels scalded from the water.

"You know The Commonwealth sounds a lot like the Board," Henry muses.

Alex throws back a laugh. "Pretty much. Good thing we're waking up Mom, she'll fix it. In America, she was the only one who tried."

Henry looks at though he wants to speak but he goes back to scrubbing the dishes.

***

Alex finishes setting up the plates and utensils. He takes the stew from the stove and places it at the centre of the table, taking off the lid. A savoury aroma of roasted tomatoes, garlic and onion--mixed with the minimal spices this pantry--fills the air.

“Whoa, that smells good,” June says as she walks into the kitchen. She takes a seat at the table. “You made this?”

“Yeah, mostly,” Alex says. “Henry helped with chopping the vegetables.”

Nora comes running up the stairs. She carries a silver bottle--the Mount Milgrom whiskey.

“Heard it’s dinner time. So I thought I’d bring this baby up and crack it open,” Nora says, holding the whiskey up. “Where's Henry? He gets the first sip.”

Just then, Henry rushes into the kitchen carrying David. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair and clothes disheveled.

“Sorry, uhm…” he says with short breaths. “Had to go fetch David from...he was stuck on a crate.”

Henry sets a bowl on the floor for David, filled with fried sprats, boiled potatoes and raw carrots. David wags his tail, and digs into the bowl.

They have dinner and whiskey, laughing and talking about their day which hasn’t been much different from the other days on _The Unreliable_. Nora whines about missing soft ground, and how it’s Alex’s fault the ship isn’t moving faster. Alex throws a napkin at her.

"So, how's the travel journal going?" June asks Henry.

"Uh…the travel journal is going most excellent," he replies, his ears turning pink. "We've already visited some places the uh...publica--I mean--The Halcyon Observer would find delightful."

"I mean I wouldn't call _Roseway Gardens_ a delight but whatever knocks their socks off," Nora comments, licking the sauce off her thumb.

"Believe me nothing says delightful to a true Byzantinian than abandoned space stations, mangled bots and corpses." Henry deadpans. David barks. Henry reaches for his ears. "Aww, not you. You're too adorable to be a corpse."

"Well if you need someone to look over it, I did say I wrote editorials for The Commonwealth Times," June says.

"Trust me, she's an excellent proofreader," Alex says, "she fixed up my papers for uni."

"I--err...thank you. I'll consider it."

***

 _The Unreliable_ shifts into the sleeping cycle for the third night, enveloping the ship in blue. June and Nora have returned to their quarters. All the rooms in the crew's quarters are closed except for one--Henry’s.

 _Perfect_ , Alex thinks. He holds Amy’s gift behind his back, and knocks. There’s a faint _come_ _in_ from the room. The door clicks. Alex walks inside.

Henry isn’t writing in his journal. Instead, his back is at the door, leaning against his chair and gazing at the stars. Henry’s quarters are at the starboard side of the ship which contains a small window overlooking space.

“Hey, I got something for you,” Alex greets, presenting the gift. “Technically it’s from Amy Chen at _The Groundbreaker_ but I asked her if I could pass this to you.”

Henry stares blankly at the gift. A beat of silence, and he says. “Put it on the desk.”

Alex places the gift on the smooth, grey surface. “The interview with Amy and Naomi must have been awesome.”

“Oh, yes, it was interesting interviewing them.” Henry rubs his nape. “Naomi has plenty of stories on the history of _The Groundbreaker_. She’s the third generation of chief engineers from the Chen family.”

Alex scans the room. Either Henry hasn’t had time to decorate or he didn’t pack a lot for this trip. The wall on the shelf has three battered novels by Jane Austen. (Alex has to ask him about this at some point. Henry has never mentioned Austen novels when he talks about literature.) He has a recorder on the side table, and his desk is plain aside from the closed journal and a pen. David is curled on a rug by the door, sleeping.

Henry notices him looking around and quirks an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Just didn’t expect your room to be so plain.” Alex stands in the middle, unsure of where to sit--if he’s _allowed_ to sit. “I mean Nora has her tool kit, and her playing cards, and June has taken to drawing crystals on the walls.”

“Crystals?”

“Yeah, they’re supposed to give us good energy.” Alex sits on Henry’s bed. When he sees or hears no complaints from Henry, he continues. “She was always into that magic stuff. Guess she left most of the real ones on Earth.”

“And how about your room, _captain_?” Henry says, a whisper of a smirk on his lips. The way his accent curls around _captain_ sends a current up Alex’s spine that his whiskey addled brain can’t parse at the moment.

“It’s cool with the wide window looking out to space,” Alex replies, pinching the plain sheets with his thumb and forefinger. He doesn’t mention he hasn’t touched Hawthorne’s things aside from the clothes he needs to wear.

A soft melody plays on the recorder. Alex faintly recognizes the lyrics: ... _Am I sitting in a tin can...Far above the world... Planet Earth is blue...And there’s nothing I can do..._

Alex smiles. “ _Space Oddity_. David Bowie.”

“Thought it’d be perfect for stargazing from a window. It’s a mix of different Old Earth songs, and it’s over 300 years old. I err...bought it on _The Groundbreaker_ ,” Henry says. “Well, my father did before he…” he trails off, his eyes turning glassy.

Alex tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”

“It shouldn’t concern you.” Henry looks away from him, eyelashes wet.

“I’m your captain,” Alex says, and the word doesn’t feel odd coming from his mouth at this moment. “You can tell me anything.”

“Doesn’t that count as fraternizing?”

“Do you see any military badges on me?”

Henry chuckles wetly. Alex likes hearing his laugh.

“My father passed away a few years ago,” Henry says, a tight exhale leaving his lips.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Alex says, and he hates himself for even asking.

“You were lost in space. You couldn’t know.”

Alex scoots over the bed, sitting on Henry’s pillow so Alex can look at him and his eyes, which are silver in the deep blue of this room.

“Well, tell me about him,” he says. “Obviously, I haven’t watched any Jett Ryder pictures.”

Another beat of silence. Just as Alex thinks Henry will not say anything about his father:

“You remind me of him actually,” Henry starts. He paints a picture of a man so spectacular, it’s impossible he existed in this universe--a hero both in and out of the screen. Henry tells him of their days at the summer villa, how Henry often chased fowls instead of hunting them. How his father gave him a brass telescope for his sixth birthday, and pointed out to Henry all the constellations.

(It is clear there are parts Henry will not say. Details left out on purpose. His older sister appears in all of these stories but Alex has no name nor an image to attach to her. His brother appears less so, and Henry’s mood turns dark when he talks about him.

And his mother. There's hardly a mention of her aside from in passing.)

Alex finds himself talking too, about the White House and how it’s still unfinished after 50 years of building, and the brief time he spent as an interim lawyer. He talks about the dust storms, and the lists in the cushions. How his parents used to fill up the kitchen with warm conversations, and how the kitchen felt cold after his father left.

And he spills about the scraps of culture and history they have left. How unrecognizable they are even as the stories and trinkets run deep in his blood.

They fall into relative silence, watching the stars move in the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** bugs, descriptions of injury. 
> 
> Also I would like to thank my friend, Zoe for helping me out with the research for the bug descriptions because I hate bugs, but I decided...to write in a bug war in this fic.

**THE SPACE GA(Y)NG MESSAGE BOARD**

**Topic:** Man on the Moon  
 **Date:** 2355-10-28 3:00 AM (HLCST)  
 **By** : alex.claremontdiaz

DIA just announced really loudly on the speaker that we are approx 3h away from Monarch. I’ve been thinking about the Man on the Moon guy--Zahra’s contact who knows stuff about what the reviving, dimethyl-something formula is.

I’m pretty sure this Man on the Moon or whatever isn’t actually a person but a bot designed to collect messages from the communication network? Thing? I ain’t a science person but just hear me out okay. Zahra made this bot and just happened to have dropped it in Monarch so we can go and do chores for her. When we get there, it’ll be all SURPRISE and here’s like a list of things Zahra wants to get.

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?

 **nora.holleran  
** go to sleep alex  
also did u take the whiskey again  
the mount milgrom?

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** why dont u ask yourself that?  
and no...why would i do that

 **nora.holleran  
** cause i know you take it when you’re feeling  
philosophical about the meaning of the universe

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** this isn’t philosophical  
im just wondering about our mystery guy

 **nora.holleran  
** anyway im working on a secret project ;)  
which btw might need moon rocks somewhere  
-hint hint @cap-  
what are _you_ doing?

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** we are not pausing the mission  
to collect fucking moon rocks

 **henry.fox  
** We're going to Monarch?  
I have a friend in Stellar Bay.

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** unless ur friend happens to be  
the man on the moon then we’re not  
talking about them

 **henry.fox  
** Oh the Man on the Moon?  
I've heard of him  
well, his station  
He's allowed to broadcast in Byzantium despite well…  
Monarch communications being banned by the Board  
And Alex, he is a real person.

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** how do you know that??  
have you seen what he looks like???

 **henry.fox  
** Err...he doesn’t show himself  
Really secretive.

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** see that’s why the bot theory makes sense!

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Can y'all just go to sleep?  
My terminal has been buzzing like crazy.  
And then DIA has the gall to fucking yell at the speaker.  
I'm trying to get some shut eye here for _today_.

 **nora.holleran  
** aww babe  
really sorry but that's how dia's  
programmed :(  
i mean i could

 **SALL-E  
** THE MESSAGE FROM USER _nora.holleran_ HAS BEEN REMOVED DUE TO VIOLATION OF RULE

_Harm of the Defense Integrated Automaton_

**nora.holleran  
** i didnt put that >:(  
where did that rule come from

 **SALL-E  
** DIRECT ORDERS FROM THE ALL SEEING

 **david  
** [A holo of David curled at Henry’s side, sleeping]

\---

**THE SPACE GA(Y)NG MESSAGE BOARD**

**Topic:** Monarch Dossier  
 **Date:** 2355-10-28 5:00 AM (HLCST)  
 **By** : SALL-E

Monarch  
Capital: Stellar Bay  
Regions: The Badlands.  
Pop: approx 30,000  
Chair: Ada Okonje - _President of the Monarch Stellar Industries._

Formerly called Terra-1, Monarch is a terrestrial planet on the Halcyon star system, situated approximately 227 million km away from the Sun (131.4 million miles for those who for some reason still speak the Imperial language in the 24th century). Monarch has a lot of qualities which make it the perfect home for humanity: breathable air, clean water, suitable temperatures and annoying pests which destroy any and all that you love!

As the first human settlement in Halcyon, Monarch contains a lot of history! See the fruitful endeavours of our early steps at terraforming--the mantisaurs...or maybe not*. See the prefabricated buildings of Halcyon's former capital, Stellar Bay before the HHC left it! Marvel at the additions Monarch Stellar Industries has added since then!

Note: The Halcyon Holdings Company doesn't provide any medical insurance for consequences of tampering with ancient artifacts

\-- _From [CLASSIFIED] Halcyon Archives - Bureau of Exploration in Byzantium, Terra-2_

\---

***

_The Unreliable_ lands on a cliff overlooking a painterly scene--a sleepy city tucked in the mouth of a valley; its prefabs glittering as if made of bronze and not dull metal. The sun slants below the mountains, brushing the sky in a pink and red-orange haze. It's an image right out of Alex's history books, of the Sierra Madre with All-American cities populating the foothills.

Alex picks a coppery pebble, red dust staining the pads of his fingers. He crushes it. Bitterness floods his tongue as the particles flit in the air like a dust storm.

June and Nora come up behind him on the cliff.

"Where's Henry?" Alex asks.

"He wanted to make sure David was okay being left alone for a few days,” June says.

“That’s weird, cause I saw him checking his terminal,” Nora adds, tapping her jaw.

There's a lift at the edge of the cliff. Alex, Nora and June step on the platform; Alex pushes the down button. The lift moves, creaking along a rusted shaft. Alex clings to June in the middle, holding his breath. The platform has no barriers to protect them from falling. The lift grinds to a halt on the ground. An arch with the words _STELLAR BAY_ welcomes them. More accurately, it reads _STLLAR BA,_ as some of the neon lights have burned out.

So this is the infamous Stellar Bay from the dossier--Halcyon’s former capital. Just as all things abandoned by the Board, the city is battered and rundown. The prefabs’ walls are faded and caked with rust; the roads cracked and the neon lights burned out.

However, there is one striking difference between Edgewater and Stellar Bay: The people are happy, and they _look_ happy. No one is wearing ragged, grimy clothes like in Edgewater, nor do they have pale, sickly complexions.

Of course, the apparent lack of those godforsaken sprats may have lent to Stellar Bay's pleasant outlook.

Just as Alex walks under the archway, a speaker perched on a lamppost blares, in a deep, grumbling voice.

_PEOPLE OF MONARCH! THIS IS THE NEWS OF THE WEEK FROM THE MAN ON THE MOON:_

_The city formerly known as Edgewater has shut down. Sources claimed that the people in the town started running away after all the power went out. One former resident said they were inspired by a strange man in a skin tight suit who was also responsible for cutting the power. Wow, talk about causing trouble._

_"I tried to sell him my sprats! I really did! But he was more interested in looking for a power generator," said one particular resident (and no miss, I do not want your sprats)._

_Sources from Byzantium call this individual “the Stranger” in a skintight suit_ _which--and this is according to the report not me--highlights their assets_.

_And that is all for now from your news of the week!_

"He's talking about you," Nora comments. "Or me, I suppose, but I wasn't the one wearing the skintight suit."

"Someone's famous," June says.

“The Stranger, huh?” Alex says, the corner of his lip tugging up. “Also do you think we can give an interview with the source from Byzantium, talk about my assets?"

"No, Alex. Let's not." June groans, hiding her face in her hand.

Alex inspects the speaker on the lampost. The box is soldered to the post.

"Hmm...wondering how we could find this guy?" Alex muses out loud.

"Well we could feed the signal through a demodulator and use it to track the location." Nora glances at the guards patrolling the streets with their mangy canid companions. "But the probabilities are against us if we tried."

"How did you find information anyway?" June asks Alex, crooking a finger under her chin.

"Back in Edgewater?" June nods, and he continues. "Well I was asking 'round town. Talked to some people who were more interested in selling me shit than helping me."

"Then _I_ found _The Stranger_ at the Cantina," Nora says, pinching his cheeks. “Looking all mopey and lost like a sad canid pup.”

“I wasn’t moping!” Alex says, shoving her off.

"Why don't we try that one?" June says, ignoring their antics and gesturing at the most impressive structure on Monarch--a building stylized like a silver crane, its wings tucked at its sides. Emerald rhinestones dot its neck, forming _MSI Head Office_ \--Monarch Stellar Industries, the corporation owning this planet.

"Looks like they’ll know a lot about this place." Alex grins. "Thanks!"

"Just trying to prevent my little bro from talking to weird sprat ladies. Again." June pats his head. Alex sticks his tongue out. She laughs.

"See this is why June is my fave Claremont-Diaz sibling." Nora throws an arm around June's shoulders. June tugs her hair, a tinge of pink in her golden undertones.

"Not that you aren't awesome or anything. If you're like a 10, then June is an 11," Nora tells Alex.

"Yeah, way to stroke my ego." Alex frowns, crossing his arms.

***

The inside of the MSI Office is just as impressive as its exterior. The floors are laden with marble tiles, and lined with emerald rhinestones. Potted plants fill every corner of the room, some green and some that look like they have never tasted water. There's a woman sitting at the front desk, her dark hair swept into a bun at her nape and her skin is a burnished copper. The plaque on her desk says, _Ada Okonje_. Her black eyes flit up when she sees them.

"You must be Captain Alex Hawthorne," Ada says, her lips pressed tightly. "No one comes to Monarch. No one is _allowed_ to come to Monarch so when a shipped dock with your name on it, I was curious."

Shit, now Alex doesn't have control of his own name outside the ship.

"Now." Ada Okonje steps out of the desk. "What business do you have with our humble planet?"

"We're here to find the Man in the Moon station," Alex says.

"Oh, one of his fans, I take it?"

"Eh...You could say that."

Just then, Henry walks in the door speaking with another person whose platinum blond hair and lurid pink lipstick are striking contrasts on his burnished copper skin.

"Pez, I've been wondering where you went," Ada says. She sees Henry, and her gaze hardens. " _You_!"

Henry flushes instantly.

"Is this some kind of inspection? A--A _trick_?" Ada glares at Alex.

"What I'm--no," Alex says, frantically trying to get a read on the room. "Seriously, we're just here to find the Man in the Moon station."

But Ada ignores his protests. "If I knew _they_ were sending someone then I could have oh, scheduled a tour of our factories, see how happy our workers are doing when _paid_ and given off hours, or added more potted plants. The last inspector really loved those."

"I don't think potted plants would help her case with the Board," June mutters.

"I'm thinking abstract plywood statues," Nora says. "The kind of avant-garde bullshit rich socialites in Byzantium will trip themselves up over."

"If I may, Aunt--" Henry starts and looks at Alex, bright red. " _Miss_ Okonje, I wasn't sent by anyone but--"

“Let me handle this.” Pez brings a hand in front of Henry's face. He pushes his rose tinted sunglasses. “ _Mother_. Henry is here writing a travel--” He makes a face at Henry. “--journal about the beauty of Halcyon which will be published in the Halcyon Times!”

“ _Observer_ ,” Henry coughs.

“The Halcyon _Observer_. And Captain Alex--" Henry mouths Alex's AI assigned last name, which Alex audibly snorts at. " _Hawthorne_ and his crew are here to make sure Henry is safely escorted around Halcyon.”

Ada purses her lips.

“It’ll be good for publicity,” Pez adds quickly. “For Monarch to the HHC if Henry can capture our planet’s rugged beauty, including the Badlands.”

"Well, be sure to showcase Monarch's best attributes. Though I don't know if I'd count the Badlands as an attribute," Ada says, yet her expression softens, her mouth curling into a warm smile. She leans on her desk. "I'll also be here, if you need to interview the President of the Monarch Stellar Industries."

"I'll be sure to uhmm...write a good article on Monarch for my travel journal," Henry says, turning pink around the ears.

"Travel journal's great and all," Alex says, feeling he can finally speak. "But I am here for something equally important, maybe more important--"

"I am also coming along with them to the Badlands," Pez interrupts, and Alex wants to tear his hair out. Getting information about a fucking radio station shouldn't be this difficult.

" _Percy!_ No, not after the scientists have disappeared--"

“--As a tour guide, to point out the best locations." Pez exhales sharply. "If he can show the Badlands isn't a terrifying hellhole, maybe the HHC might reconsider.”

Ada presses her lips together, bringing her arms around herself.

"Very well," she finally says. "But _Percy_ be careful--" she looks around then. "Be careful all of you."

“Yes, Mother.”

***

"Now you've done it, Haz," Pez tells Henry as they're walking outside the MSI Head Office as if Alex, June and Nora aren't there. "Now, that's all she's going to be concerned about."

"What? I thought she wanted to be in good graces with the Board." Henry says.

"You could have called, or sent an email, before you threw Mother and me off-kilter! How difficult is it to say," Pez says, and he imitates Henry. "’My greatest and dearest friend Pez, I am visiting Stellar Bay with some _beautiful_ people and our estimated arrival time is in 2 days, etcetera, etcetera.’"

"Well, I didn't realize we were going to Stellar Bay until the ship yelled at 3 AM."

Alex has had enough. He makes an unflattering, irritated noise.

"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" he snaps, jutting his chin. "Like, first off, did you actually stay behind to check in on David?"

Henry visibly crumples, like he wants to sink into the ground.

"Alex, I did see him before I left the ship," June answers for him. "He was talking to DIA, asking them to look out for David, make sure he doesn't climb on crates in the cargo hold."

"And refill his bowl twice daily," Henry adds in a small voice.

But that still doesn't clear Henry of Alex's suspicions.

"Second, how do you know him anyway?" he says.

"Why don't you tell them, _Haz_?" Pez grins, showing his teeth.

Henry looks at Pez, and at his shoes, looks at Alex.

"Pez and I went to boarding school together in Byzantium," he says, clutching on the strap of his satchel like the leather holds answers.

"But that was a few years before the Board kicked out Monarch Stellar Industries," Pez says, poking Henry's shoulder. "I did visit this spring chicken occasionally."

"Wait, I thought no ship can come in or out of Monarch," Alex says.

“Legal loopholes, darling.” Pez waves his hand dismissively. “And it’s nice to be the best mate of a _well-respected_ _journalist_ for the Halcyon Observer.”

Henry gives Pez a look, unreadable.

"Anyway, we should be off. Can't be staying out late in the Badlands with Monarch's resident pests," Pez says.

"You know where we're going?" June asks, her eyes sparkling.

"Oh, Henry told me everything." Pez winks at Henry. "Man on the Moon Station. Not far from here but you can't be too careful with the Badlands." He bows a little, offering his hand. "Shall we be off, Miss Hawthorne?"

"That's not even our last name," Alex says, folding his arms.

"It's Claremont-Diaz actually," June says, her cheeks turning rosy under brown skin. She takes Pez's hand. "June Claremont-Diaz."

He leads June away, walking towards the large double gate in the distance.

"Time to see what this Man on the Moon business is, and if your whiskey-addled bot theory holds up," Nora says, poking Alex's nose. He scrunches his face, and she laughs, running after Pez and June.

Alex watches her leave. Henry takes two steps forward. He turns, looks at him and a part of Alex--the one that keeps tumbling and knocking inside his brain--says, he's missing something.

"You coming?" Henry says, lips tugging into a small smile. His skin glows in Monarch's apparently everlasting sunset. The red-orange haze in the sky seems to curl around his head, forming a crown, a halo.

"Yeah." Alex shakes his head. It's the weight of this whole goddamn mission, he thinks. The Man in the Moon, whoever he is, better have answers.

***

The Badlands doesn't seem like it's a bad place. There are trees, and more trees, and mountains and rock. From the way Pez had cautioned them, he had expected a wasteland. Alex grew up in the Wasteland. They have trees, and mountains and rocks, but the soil feels dead. Nothing can grow out of it without extreme modification and terraforming.

The Man on the Moon station--as Pez points out--is a tower atop a mountain. The trek is a steep climb, full of loose, sharp rocks and uneven ground.

Alex trips on said rocks. Henry catches him, one arm around his back and the other hand on his waist. Alex clutches Henry’s neck using both his hands. The posture of it all, the way Henry has him dipped in a weird dance, and how his arm muscles feel on his back, sinewy and strong; it makes Alex’s skin feel hot.

Alex swallows.

“Cute,” Nora says, and she shares a look with June, a language they’ve formed with each other. They both giggle.

Alex scowls. He shoves off Henry, patting his pants for dust. There aren't any.

“How much longer till we get to the station?” Alex asks, high-pitched.

“Here I thought you were enjoying the scenery,” Pez grins, glancing at Henry, who looks away.

“It’d be nicer if we were up there,” Alex scoffs looking up at the tower which looks golden, reflecting the sunset.

Pez pats Alex’s shoulder. “Patience, Alexander. We’ll get there.”

“He’s not known to be patient,” June teases.

“I can be patient!”

“Didn’t you, like, get mad at a door back at _Roseway_?” Nora says, smirking.

“It wasn’t working!” Alex argues. “What did you want me to do?”

“Not kick doors,” Henry says.

“I hate all of you,” Alex groans, throwing his hands in the air.

As they continue their trek up the mountain, Alex notices a few crates that appear to be filled with explosives, pick axes, shovels and ropes--all the materials one needs for a mine.

“Ah, yes, the Crystal Mines,” Pez says as he keeps walking on the path. “There are actually no crystals in here. It’s just what the Board decided to name the mines when they landed on Monarch--or Terra-1 back then.”

There’s something else Alex notices--exoskeletons and chitin from an insect of some kind. His body shivers. What kind of monsters lurk in this mountain?

“It’s been abandoned, mainly because it wasn’t making bits. Turns out, miners who die after one day at work don’t bode well for profit,” Pez continues, chuckingly darkly. “There’s also the pest problem. Another casualty of the Board’s carelessness.”

Something chirps. Something else hisses. A bead of sweat rolls down Alex’s cheek. The sounds come from the slope just ahead. He grips his pistol, his heart hammering in his chest.

“It’s a shame. I think they’d be cuter if the Board just left them alone, and didn’t terraform them into monsters,” Pez says. He stops just as their path plateaus. He takes out his rifle.

A beat.

A giant insect hisses, skittering towards them. Pincer-like _, skewer_ things protrude from its mouth. The sickly green hue of its body, along with the sharp claws at the end of its arms reminds him of a mantis. Alex jumps behind a boulder, sitting between Pez and Henry. Nora and June occupy the boulder across from them.

"What the fuck?" Alex says. He peeks over the boulder. More of the insect monsters have crawled out along with their worm children. They seem to be coming from the hole in the mountain slope just past a rocky arch.

“They’re mantisaurs, darling. The little ones are mantipilars,” Pez says and aims his rifle at the mantisaur. “Don’t let them eat you.”

He fires. The bullet zips by the mantisaur's arm, grazing the hardened skin. A viscous purple liquid bleeds from the wound. The mantisaur hisses but it looks unaffected by the gash. Pez tries again. This time the bullet pierces its arm, and the mantisaur screeches, stumbling.

Henry pops off two shots with his pistol. Both bullets hit the mantisaur square at its eyes. It whines, collapsing on the ground. Dead.

There’s more of them, coming from the hole in the mountain like an army of soldiers.

Alex takes his pistol out. He’s useless at the fucking thing, never one for tools which led to the destruction of humanity.

He glances over at June, who calmly but surely pulls the trigger on her pistol. She hates these weapons as much as he does. However, as a journalist, she got arms training. Something about protecting journalistic integrity. It's ridiculous.

June is over there, firing at mantisaurs and mantipilars like they're numbers on a dartboard. And Alex is frozen, curling his knees under his chin.

Alex puts the gun back in its holster. He may not know how to use a pistol, but there's something else he can do.

Alex peeks over the boulder, looking at the rocky arch and the hole just below it. He glances at the mining tools--the hammer, the rope and the dynamite--and a plan formulates in his mind.

“I have an idea,” Alex says. He rolls over to the mining tools, dragging the crate behind the boulder before a mantisaur sees him. He takes a pickaxe and some nails, strapping them together with the dynamite and rope at his belt.

“I need you to come with me,” Alex tells Henry, and then to the others. “Distract the mantisaurs. Don’t let them escape and don't let them near the arch.”

"Got it!" Nora salutes. She leans against the boulder, propping her shotgun.

"Wait, where are you going?" June asks.

"Uhh...up there?" Alex points at the arch.

Henry hesitates. June purses her lips.

"It's gonna work, okay?" he says, and he meets Henry's blue eyes. "Trust me."

"I do trust you," Henry says.

June presses her lips. She looks at Henry. "Take care of him, or I'll kick your ass.

"Same for you, Alex," Pez says, reaching over to pat Henry's knee.

"Just so you know," Nora says, "seeing as I have no clue what your plan is, I'll say your numbers are 50-50 on dying and living."

"Love the positive encouragement, totally helps with my case on eliminating the giant monster bugs," Alex says, popping two finger guns. He gives Henry a look, and they move, crawling from boulder to rock until they reach the foot of the arch's base.

Bullets fire and mantisaurs screech. Alex turns his head back. Nora, Pez and June are keeping the insects at bay.

"Ready?" Alex asks.

"If you mean am I ready to put my life in danger for this plan of yours, then yes, I'm ready," Henry replies.

Alex climbs on the rock face, pushing his fingers into the cracks; his feet finding purchase on the joints. He climbs. One, crack. Two, joint. And up and up, setting a steady rhythm as he scales the arch. Don’t look down, he thinks, _don’t fucking look down_. He reaches the top of the base, pulling Henry up with him.

"Okay, so," Alex grunts, looping the rope around a boulder. "I'm going to run to the middle of the arch and attach the dynamite. When I say go, you shoot that dynamite, all right?"

"Before or after you run back?" Henry asks.

"Nope, I'm not running back." Alex pulls the rope under his crotch, looping it between his thighs. "I'm swinging with the rope."

" _What_?"

"Someone has to distract the mantisaurs," Alex says. He crosses the rope over his hip, tying it around his waist. Who knew the skills he learned as a scout will be useful decades down the road, he thinks as he tugs the knots, finding them secure.

"I--but--" Henry sputters, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"I trust you." Alex smirks, putting both hands on his shoulders. Henry chews on his bottom lip. He squeezes Alex's hand.

Alex runs, skidding at the middle of the arch. He hammers the dynamite on the rock, a nail at each end. June sees him, her eyes full of worry.

This will either be the smartest or dumbest idea he has since waking up on Halcyon.

Alex is gunning for both.

He picks up a rock, light in his fingers, and throws it at a mantisaur, striking its head. The insect’s head spins back without moving its body

“Hey, yeah, you,” Alex yells. “You big dumb, disgusting insect monster, you.”

The mantisaur screeches. Alex catches June’s gaze again, worrying her lip between her teeth. Alex ignores her, and the stutter in his chest. He throws another rock, striking another mantisaur. They move.

Alex’s blood pounds behind his ears. He starts an empty list, not counting anything particular but the sound of his own heartbeat. Henry raises his pistol in Alex’s peripheral vision. He’s shaking. Alex wants to tell him--wants to _shout_ \-- _this will_ work, but the words die in his throat, burned by the anxiety gnawing at him.

The first mantisaur is under the arch.

“Go!” Alex tells Henry.

He jumps as Henry's gunshot rings, letting the momentum propel him as he swings. The breeze cards through his hair. Adrenaline floods his veins, his heart smacking loudly in his chest. Alex laughs and laughs. He can fucking die from this stunt, and he's fucking laughing.

The dynamite explodes. A firework of rock and stone erupts, creating a dust cloud which hurts his throat and makes his eyes water. Boulders rumble, shaking into his very core. The mantisaurs shriek and cry, and _crunch_. Their bodies break. _Crunch_.

(Don't think about death.)

Alex opens his eyes. He hangs by the rock face, clinging on the rope. The arch's remains lie as boulders, crushing the mantisaurs and blocking the cave. Henry scowls at him from the top of the outcrop

"Hi, Henry." Alex says weakly, adrenaline draining from his blood.

"That's all you have to say?" Henry says then he laughs loud and delirious, rolling on his back. “You asked me to put your fucking _life_ in danger and all you have to say is--" and he mimics Alex's Commonwealth drawl, " _Hi Henry_.”

"I'm alive!" Alex says, and he points at the rubble. "And look, it worked!'

"You'll be the death of me," he hears Henry mutter, breathless. " _You'll_ be the death of me."

"Alex!" June yells from below, a slight tremor in her voice. "What the fuck were you thinking doing something as _stupid_ as that?"

"You had a 95% chance of getting crushed and eaten by mantisaurs," Nora says.

"What's the other 5?"

" _This_?"

"Seriously, I thought I'd be given more credit here." Alex pouts. "I practically save y'all's asses."

"Oh, Alexander." Pez laughs. "Here I thought I'd only see this excitement in the serials."

Alex climbs up the rope, his thighs burning and his arms sore. He lets the last of his adrenaline carry him up and over the outcrop. Henry has him, enveloping him in his arms. Alex burrows his face in his shoulders, inhaling the scent of him, which somehow smells of fresh grass despite all of _that_. He revels in Henry’s body heat, glad that he--that _they_ \--made it out alive.

Alex is looking at him and looking at him (and Henry is looking back) and the sun slants behind the mountains, and the breeze touches soil, blowing dust in the air, and bitterness floods his mouth, and his heart keeps flipping on _something_.

“You’re bleeding,” Henry says, gently touching his forehead with the pads of his fingers. Alex winces. He faintly touches his brow where Henry had touched his skin and feels something sticky. When he looks at his fingers, they are coated in red. The adrenaline has worn off. He's tired, _drained_ like he needs six cups of rich dark coffee and five Energy Brews to stay awake.

Henry sits him on a flat rock. He rummages in his satchel, procuring a brown bottle, a cloth and a bandage.

"It's fine. I feel fine," Alex says, lightheaded.

Henry ignores him, and presses a damp cloth on his wound. Alex hisses. He squirms, moving back.

"Would you stay still?" Henry snaps, sunset touching his irises; they look like they’re on fire. Alex has no energy in him to argue back. He lets Henry clean his wound, clutching Henry's forearm when the alcohol stings. Henry presses the bandage to the torn skin, touching his skin delicately; it feels sacred.

Alex glances at his lips. They're so close, Alex can lean in and--

A skycar hovers by Alex and Henry. The logo on its side says, _Man on the Moon_ in faded sunshine yellow letters and has the same moon head mascot as the ones in Edgewater. The door hisses, sliding up. There is a man standing inside. His smooth hair curls in waves behind his ears, and as black as the velvety coat he wears. His sun-kissed tawny skin glows in Monarch's sunset.

“Rafael Luna," the man introduces himself roughly. "I was expecting you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half of this chapter is just Alex, Henry and Pez fooling around in the wilderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** alcohol use

Luna flies the skycar down to the ground where June, Nora, and Pez are waiting. Alex and Henry help them onto the skycar. June punches Alex’s shoulder when she gets on.

“What was that for?” he yelps.

"For whatever you did down there! Jesus Christ, Alex!" she says, her face tinged red. She sulks beside him, folding her arms over her chest.

“Can’t y’all just appreciate we’d be still down there trying not to get eaten by mantisaurs if not for my plan?” Alex insists, shifting on his seat, nudging Henry's arm. The five of them are squeezed into the passenger area like saltuna in a tin can.

"I thought it was smart," Nora says, slouching in her seat and stretching her legs so her soles touch Alex's boot. "Insane, but smart."

“Yes, I appreciate it, but I still think it was stupid.” June sniffs. When he looks, her eyes are dry.

The door to the skycar clicks close. Alex feels the vibrations on the soles of his shoes as the engines come alive, more subdued than _The Unreliable_.

"Oh, I saw your little stunt--and heard it, too," Luna says from in front of the car, his smile reflected in the rearview mirror. “Haven’t done that kind of excitement since I was your age, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Alex says

“Yeah, you’re 90 years old," he jests, looking over his shoulder and smirking. “Yeah, don’t be alarmed. Zahra told me all about you--and your friends.” Luna stares at Henry for a moment too long, and he looks at Pez. “And I know he’s Ada Okonje’s kid.”

Pez lowers his sunglasses. “Yes, when she dies I’ll inherit the unfortunate state of Monarch.”

Alex huffs and turns his attention back to Luna. "So you're the Man in the Moon guy?"

"The one and only,” Luna says. A button clicks from the skycar’s dashboard. The round speakers blare in a similar low and gruff voice as the one they heard in Stellar Bay, _PEOPLE OF MONARCH! THIS IS THE NEWS OF THE WEEK FROM THE MAN ON THE MOON._

“Anyway, Zahra told me you might know where the di-metal-something what's it called?" Alex scratches his temple. He looks around the compartment for any signs of the formula’s name but he’s met with an array of confused faces--and June’s persistent scowl.

After a moment, Nora’s face lights up as if a switch has flipped inside her head.

"Dimethyl sulfoxide,” she says, raising a finger.

"Yeah, the main supply of what Nora said,” Alex says.

Luna doesn't answer. The skycar slides into a compartment jutting from the tower they’ve just arrived at. He hops off the pilot’s seat, slamming the door shut. Alex hears light footsteps outside, and just as a complaint forms at the tip of his tongue, the passenger door opens.

“There’s a problem with the comm channel connecting to the source.” Luna’s face emerges from the door, craning his neck. He disappears, walking away from the skycar, muttering “Noise, and other interference.”

“What?-- _Ow_.” Alex rubs his throbbing head. He glares at the compartment’s low ceiling.

 _Stupid skycar_. He hops off the skycar, taking care to duck as he exits the passenger’s door. The rest of them follow along.

The Man in the Moon radio station looks more like the military command centres Alex has seen in the vids than a typical radio station. Every desk or table is piled with a terminal or two. Screens featuring different places in Halcyon hang on the walls. Alex recognizes a few of them--the Saltuna Cannery in Emerald Vale, _The Groundbreaker_ , _Roseway Gardens,_ and Stellar Bay. One screen features an opulent room with marble floors and walls, highlighted by gold accents, and rich oak panels. Henry throws an intense look at that one. It must be the Halcyon Observer’s office. Alex is simultaneously impressed and appalled at the obscene wealth the newspaper has.

The station overlooks Monarch through the large window panels in front of them. They’re so high up that the trees resemble shrubberies, and Stellar Bay is a faint grey blur.

Rafael Luna sits at the main terminal, shadowed by Nora. Alex walks over, and sees white noise on the screen.

“There’s your dimethyl sulfoxide location, kid,” Luna says. He twists a knob. The terminal squeaks, but the screen seems to be populated by more noise.

“Damn it!” Alex says. He breathes, clenching his hands. He starts a mantra in his head, _don’t hit anything_ , especially in a room filled with expensive, breakable equipment.

“Is there anything we can do?” Henry asks, addressing Alex--not Luna.

“I mean I could figure out something,” Nora speaks in a quiet tone, pushing her pointer fingers together. “Uhm...try to demodulate the noise?”

“Can you translate that into words?” asks June, tugging her braid.

“Oh! Clear up the noise!” Nora replies earnestly. She pushes in front of Luna’s terminal, ignoring his complaints, and twists the knobs bolted at the bottom of the screen. “So normally when you twist these things, it makes the signal clearer--”

“Right, and now it doesn't,” Luna replies pointedly. He rolls his chair from the terminal, spinning so he faces Alex. “There’s too much noise. I know the Board has problems with the station but I didn’t think this channel would be blocked completely.”

Something clicks in Alex’s mind, a puzzle piece slotting into its rightful place.

“What if,” Alex starts then stops as his brain processes his thoughts into a coherent state. “What if we find some place else to get the information?”

“Hmm?” Luna’s eyes flash up.

“Like what if there’s this place in Monarch without the Board...spying?” Luna shows no sign of Alex’s idea being terrible, or no sign at all, if he’s honest. Alex scratches his scalp. “Yeah, uh that place.”

“Oh! The Old Monarch Stellar Industries factory!” Pez speaks up. “No one has stepped foot in that place for almost a decade. Maybe a few scientists who went there recently.”

“The Old MSI factory is deep in the Badlands, kid.” Luna crosses his arms. “You’ll be dead - gunned down by marauders or eaten by mantisaurs--before you even set foot.”

The room goes quiet for a moment, and the only sounds are Nora’s fingers clacking on the keyboard, the terminal hissing as she turns the knobs.

“I might know a way through the Badlands without the threat of mantisaurs,” Pez finally says, tapping a polished finger to his cheek. “It’s a long way though, and we might need to camp for the night.”

“Works for me,” Alex says without hesitation, no second thoughts. If this is the best way they can find the formula’s location, then he doesn’t care how many times they have to camp out or how long it will take.

Luna pushes up from his chair. He walks towards a shelf, rummaging through a drawer. He returns to Alex.

“If you need to extract a signal, then you might need this.” He presses a blocky object on Alex’s hand. “It’s a two-way extractor. Once you bring it to a place without interference, just plug it to your terminal, and the signal will go back here.”

The extractor looks like the walkie-talkie toy Alex had as a kid. It has a small screen, two knobs on its body--one black and one red--and a small antenna attached to its head.

“Anyway, I should check in on your friend.” Luna slumps in his chair, wheeling back to his terminal.

“I will warn you though.” Pez places a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You can only take one other person with us on this trip. The less people we have with us, the harder it is for mantisaurs to track us.”

Alex glances over at Nora who looks to be in an animated conversation with Luna. This is her place, where she can best help. Which leaves June and Henry--his sister and his... Henry. Henry is not quite his friend, and not quite a stranger, but there’s something magnetic about him, tugging Alex like one half of a binary star pulls the other.

“Henry, you’re coming with us,” Alex says. Henry gives June a bewildered look. She smiles, glassy-eyed and pulls Henry into a hug. Henry releases her, and walks over to Pez.

Alex has to say goodbye to June. This is only temporary--assuming they don’t get killed along the way--but it’s harder than the final farewell Alex shared with her 70 years ago on _The Hope_. Alex made her mad with his stunt, which isn’t _his_ fault. He just wants her to understand.

They both don’t say anything, a long awkward pause like when they were in trouble as kids, and their mother asked to see them both in her office.

And then finally, as if June has forgotten every insane thing Alex has done today, she throws her arms around Alex, pulling him close.

“Call me okay?” June says, hugging him tightly. “And please don’t get eaten by those giant insect things. How would I tell Mom and Dad?”

“Start off by saying that I was duelling the mantisaur in a gladiatorial pit,” Alex jests, “and the mantisaur bested me two out of three, and as I was about to rip its skewers with my bare hands--”

June pushes him away. “Ugh, just be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, you too.” He clips the extractor to his belt. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

There’s an elevator tucked in the corner of the room. Alex pushes the down button. Luna approaches them.

“Hey, you’re going against the Board, right?” Luna says, holding a datapad.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alex says, tilting his head.

“I like that confidence, kid.” He gives Alex’s shoulder a playful bump with his fist. The mischief in his eyes fades, replaced by a somber mood. “But watch out. The Board has plenty of tricks up their sleeve, and you haven’t seen all of them.”

“I know. I know.” Alex pats his shoulder as if wiping off dust. “Zahra also gave me the Board is smart and evil talk.”

Rafael Luna purses his lips, clutching the datapad tightly. He says nothing and shakes his head

Alex looks down at the datapad in his hand. “Were you going to give me something?”

“Oh no, this is just the report for tomorrow,” he replies. Alex is not convinced.

The door to the elevator slides open. Pez and Henry step inside. Luna pushes Alex into the elevator.

“You best get going kid, before it gets dark.”

Just as the elevator closes, Alex catches the title of the datapad Luna is holding. It says, _Lifetime Employment Program_ , _Codename: Project Lazarus_.

***

By the time Alex, Henry and Pez get down from the radio station, the sun hangs low on the horizon. They manage to trek for a bit before stars begin twinkling, and blue tints the red-orange haze in the sky. Pez calls to find a place to camp out.

The place they decide to stay for the night is an abandoned prefab which has a poor excuse for a ceiling. One can hardly call the ripped up wooden panels a covering, much less a roof over their heads. However, that isn't the worst part of this shabby prefab. No, the worst part is: there is only one bed.

Before Alex can ask which one of them will take it, he hears Pez walk out of the door. Alex peeks out of the prefab’s only window, and there is Pez unrolling his bedroll.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather sleep with the stars above me,” Pez shouts.

Alex and Henry stare at the ratty quilt which is covered by wood shavings. At least the bed is big enough for the two of them, with two pillows and all.

“Did you bring a bedroll?” Henry eventually asks in a high-pitched voice.

“Nope,” Alex says. “I’m assuming you didn’t either.”

Just then Alex’s stomach growls, bemoaning the lack of a proper meal since last night's dinner.

"Look, let's just deal with this later. I'm hungry."

They go outside the prefab; the sun hangs low, its rays touching the tips of the trees. Pez lounges on his bedroll, lying with his hands behind his head as if the sun is still at its apex and Pez is here for sunbathing. In front of Pez is a pile of logs, rock and grass, arranged as a bonfire.

"Which one of you two lovely young men would light the fire for us?" Pez asks Alex and Henry when he sees them.

Henry fetches a lighter from his satchel. "I will."

"How many things do you have in there?" Alex gestures at his bag.

"Just what I need on a travel excursion around Halcyon." Henry insists, jutting out his chin.

Alex snorts. "Next thing I know you'd be pulling out a gatling gun."

"If it's helpful for the mission, then yes, I would. Some of us would prefer to be prepared before we embark on a perilous journey."

"Hey, I brought a footlocker of all the things I needed in Halcyon."

"Where is it?"

"It's erm…" Alex chews his bottom lip. He sighs. "It's back on _The Hope,_ okay?"

"Oh," Henry's shoulders sag. "I didn't know."

"It's fine, okay, seriously." He curls his hand over his nose, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and fingers. Alex blinks, and says, "Anyway, thanks for volunteering. I could do it with just a stick and some grass, but the lighter works better."

"Think you can do better, Captain?" Henry smirks, a challenge written all over his expression.

"Uhm...no." Alex's pants feel constricted for some reason. "You have the lighter and I'm still tired from saving your asses back on the mountain."

"Alright."

Henry kneels by the pile of nature's trash, clicking his lighter to start a fire. Alex helps Pez set up for dinner.

Pez, as it turns out, also has a never ending backpack full of knickknacks and gear. He passes Alex cans of Zero Gee Brew, and a bottle called Spectrum vodka ("A glass for every class,"Pez intones). There's also a sliced loaf of bread in a plastic wrap (which somehow kept its shape), a tin of mushroom spread, a bag of fish jerky, and a pack of thin crackers. Alex arranges logs beside Pez's bedroll to sit on.

Alex leans on the log. He pops open a can of Zero Gee, letting the air sizzle before taking a drink. Pez lies on his bedroll, drinking his Spectrum vodka. They chew crackers, watching Henry try--and fail--to light the fire.

"So much for the lighter," Alex says in between bites.

"Aww, you should give him more encouragement." Pez winks, and takes the pack of crackers for himself.

Alex cups his hand around his mouth. "You're doing great, sweetheart!"

Henry narrows his eyes at him, the tips of his ears tinged red. He turns away from them, trying to start the fire once more. Pez snorts, the pack of crackers bounding on his stomach, and some land on his bedroll.

"Hey, totally weird question if you don't mind," Alex says, grabbing the fallen crackers.

"I'm all ears, Alexander," Pez replies. "Although, if you have questions related to our sunflower over there then, I think he'd prefer if the words came right from him."

"Yeah, sure." Alex takes another drink. "Anyway, it's about your Mom, and I don't really know how you say this." He tugs the roots of his hair. "But why is she so intent on being friendly with the Board?"

"You mean why is she so fixated on pleasing the Board that she forgets to care about our people?" Pez says bluntly.

"I wouldn't have put it that way, but yeah."

Pez drinks his vodka. He sits up, tucking one leg under his thigh, and the other is stretched out on the bedroll.

"She cares about our people, truly," he says. "I mean who among Halcyon would give their workers a living wage, and vacation times; provide medical care, and ensure every family on Stellar Bay is truly taken cared of?" He takes another drink, somberly this time. "I suppose that's why the Board will never accept us back."

Alex watches Henry work at the fire. He's sitting on his haunches, scratching his chin, and lost in thought. It's the same face he makes when he's writing his journal, or when he's deep in argument with Alex. It's cute.

"So why keep doing it?" Alex asks after a moment.

"Have you seen this place?" Pez laughs. "I'm sure it pales in comparison with the Wasteland but our people shouldn't settle for just better than the results of a nuclear apocalypse."

"Yeah, absolutely." He picks at the grass, flicking the tiny green fragments. "People always say that about The Commonwealth, too. Like at least it's not _Florida_. Jesus Christ, why is Florida even a point of comparison here?"

"Exactly! But--" Pez presses his lips together, looking away. "Mother thinks joining the Halcyon Holdings Corporations is the only way for prosperity, and I think she could be right. She also has this folly belief that she can influence the Board into adapting her ideals for the everyday worker."

"Well, what do _you_ want?"

Pez goes quiet, and after a minute, he answers, "I wished we could make Monarch--and Stellar Bay--into the city of the stars. A glittering city that's free from the Board's influence."

"I guess I was dreaming of the same thing back on Earth, wishing I could make The Commonwealth a better place." Alex tugs the laces on his boot, finding something to do with his hands.

He lets the conversation die out, watching as the day shifts into night. Far from the city's golden lights the stars blanket the whole goddamn sky, no place left untouched. It's like they're looking at their own personal galaxy, only the vacuum of space is populated by the atmosphere. Alex has only encountered this kind of scenery a few times, and none of them were on solid terrestrial ground.

Alex drinks his Zero Gee. He recalls sitting on the front porch of their house as a kid--their old home before the White House--pointing at the couple of stars winking on Earth's sky. He'd ask a lot of questions, nonsensical things only a five year old can come up. They often lead to one singular inquiry:

Why the hell did they blow each other up?

A strange thing for a five year old to know, the death of civilization. How can he not when the remains are right at his fingertips?

His parents never answered it, neither did his teachers, nor professors, nor any of the maintainers aboard _The Hope_. Alex had stopped asking by then, hasn't thought about it until now.

Why the hell did they blow each other up? The answer is obvious when he looks at the state of Halcyon. Humanity hasn't learned from their mistakes, they just repeat them.

Alex wants to break that cycle. _The Hope_ may have the best and brightest, but can they uproot humanity's biggest mistakes?

Alex supposes he'll only find out after he revives them.

"Looks like our sunflower finally did it," Pez says, bringing him out of his thoughts.

The bonfire crackles. It's flames lick up the sky, casting dark golden shadows on Henry's features.

"And God said let there be light." Pez hands Henry a bottle of vodka. He slides between Pez and Alex.

"It wasn't an act of God." Henry clicks the lighter.

They sit around the campfire drinking, and eating bread slathered with mushroom pate, chewing thick slabs of fish jerky. Alex tries toasting the bread in the fire. He scowls at the burnt toast on the stick, and Pez and Henry howl with laughter.

As the night goes on, Alex's head becomes positively sloshed and his belly full. They start talking about nonsensical things. Pez tells all the strange hijinks he and Henry used to get into back at the boarding school in Byzantium. Pez does most of the talking. Henry sits and smiles, and adds the details Pez misses.

“Ah, nights like these remind me of all of those times I got you away from those marriage contracts,” Pez says after a while, clinking his Spectrum vodka with Henry’s.

"The fuck is a marriage contract?" Alex asks.

“It’s a slip of paper people sign if they want to form a partnership,” Henry says.

“Isn’t that just called a marriage certificate?”

“Does this marriage certificate contain the terms and leases of your partnership?”

“I mean I guess if you’re rich.”

“Oh, he’s right about that, Haz.”

“Aren’t _you_ rich?” Henry chucks a handful of dirt and grass at Alex.

Alex spits out the grainy grits, scowls and throws a handful back. “My parents weren’t assholes about it though.”

Henry leans his body to one side, missing Alex’s granulated attack. Alex laughs, and gets on his knees, moving towards Henry when Pez sits between them.

“Pez is...half-right.” Henry continues then, the stars reflected in the pools of his eyes. “I wasn’t _in_ any marriage contracts but I was offered a few, which didn’t turn out pleasantly. One part because I am gay and the other part is because my grandmother selects the worst men to form a marriage contract with.” He tips the rim of the bottle to his lips. "That part was after she found out I was gay. Her _compromise_."

Alex sips his Zero Gee. “So it’s not because of making babies like the old days?”

“It is preferable to have children, pass on the legacy, and all that nonsense. But marriage contracts are always about money,” Henry says. "There’s no love or reason behind them. I suppose I don’t want that life, a purposeless marriage.”

“Is that why you left? Why you chose to take on this project for the Halcyon Observer?”

Henry holds his gaze but doesn't answer. Conversations with Henry are always like this, like a _game_. Once Alex has unlocked a piece of him, he's greeted with another closed chest, bolted by the biggest and heaviest lock which can only be opened with the right words.

Alex perches his jaw on the square knuckles of his hand. He's always been fond of challenges. Henry might be his favourite.

Pez inches closer to Henry, elbowing his shoulder.

“Remember the--what was his name--Luther, the nephew of a Byzantium socialite artist?” he says to Alex. "He kept pestering his sister about a potential marriage contract with Henry even before Luther's aunt spoke with Henry's family."

"Wow," Alex comments.

"Don’t tell him that!” Henry puts his head in his arms. Pez ruffles his blond hair.

“Nice looking guy but Bea would have killed him before you signed your name on the contract.”

A beat of silence.

“Great in bed, too,” Henry adds, casting a long glance at the flickering fire.

“You didn’t!”

“What?” Henry gives him a _look_. “The worst thing about that relationship--if you can even call it a _relationship_ \--were his aunt’s cocktail parties. She always had these awful, _awful_ napkin sculpture demonstrations which took forever.” Henry takes a really long pull from the bottle.

“And so you’re there, watching this spindly woman explain the 75 ways one can fold the ends of a fucking _napkin_ , ready to tear your hair out,” he continues, his face as red as the vodka sloshing in the glass bottle. “The hors d'oeuvres have gone cold, the wine is running out, and lo’ there’s her nephew, looking positively _delectable_ in a three piece suit. And yes, he may be dimwitted, but he has this intense smoldering gaze which goes all the way down to--” Henry makes a perfunctory gesture at his pants. Alex consciously doesn’t look. "So one thing led to another, and then you’re sitting half naked on his bed, looking at those bloody napkin sculptures on his wall as he goes in between your legs and--"

"I'd rather not hear this,” Alex says, blushing furiously. His mind conjures up images of Henry, flustered, his skin glistening and his mouth parted in--uhm--yeah. He puts his face in his hands, massaging his alcohol-addled head.

"As if Alex Claremont-Diaz hasn't had his fair share of weird sexual adventures." Pez pokes the back of his hand. "Any lucky, or in your case, _unlucky_ sweethearts left at home?"

“Nope, not a single one.” Alex swats his hand away, answering assuredly. “Although, if we’re talking weird sexual adventures--”

He gets another handful of sand thrown at his face. Henry laughs, his dirt-stained hand touching his forehead. Alex spits, and lunges at Henry, avoiding Pez’s attempts at stopping him. He tackles Henry, rolling him on his back flat to the ground, and trapping Henry's waist with his hips. Henry lets out a guttural groan, canting his hips involuntarily. Suddenly, through a heady alcohol induced haze mixed with the thing about Henry his brain keeps tumbling over, and the feeling of the hard planes of Henry’s body pressed against him, Alex realizes Henry’s mouth is a few inches away from his.

Apprehension crosses Henry’s face. His eyes widen, and he shoves Alex off. He stands up, wiping the dust off his pants, and walks away without a word. Alex watches Henry march towards the prefab, befuzzled, and his ass in the dirt. Once Henry is out of earshot, he turns to Pez.

“What did I do?” he asks, his heart squeezed by something akin to a rose vine.

“Give him time,” Pez says, his tinted glasses shadowing any expression he has. “There’s a lot going through his mind that you don’t know.”

Alex circles his arms around his knees, looking up in the sky. He thinks he sees the North Star in the spot a moon usually occupies, but the twinkle in the inky night leads him nowhere.

***

So, given the circumstances, Alex thinks sleeping under the stars like Pez might be his best bet--but he decides against the idea when the night wind howls, and he has nothing on him to protect from the cold. Pez curls under his bedroll, and Alex walks back into the prefab.

Henry has taken one side of the bed, sleeping on his side. So much for deciding who’ll take the bed then.

Alex considers taking the other pillow, and crashing on the floor, but the dark stains look unsanitary.

 _Fuck it_. He crawls on the empty space on the bed, careful to keep some distance from Henry, which is impossible in a bed made for two people. Alex stares at the sliver of open sky from the ripped holes, and he thinks, and _thinks_ , his mind pulling him in different directions until it goes blank.

Faintly, he thinks, he should close his eyes and go to sleep. Henry will forget about it in the morning, just as he will.

His brain knocks again, teetering his line of thinking towards the apex, converging at a singular point--Henry. It’s weird, because his head isn’t wired for comprehensible ideas, but every thought he has of Henry is as clear as a moonless, starless sky. It’s like they pushed away every reason to leave everything behind, crossed thousands of light years to tell Alex no; he is your reason.

Alex stopped believing in destinies when he learned the truth as to why the air turns sickly sometimes, and why the White House has never been finished despite half a century of reconstruction. The end of the world had no pre-existing plan. It just happened. A commanding officer's finger hovers over the button, the nuclear codes at the tip of their tongue. They think not of the signs in the sky nor warnings of an old crone saying: _this is how the world shall end_ but instead, _this is how history shall remember me_.

Fate doesn't exist in a world that has ended, now that they've seen the final thread in the strand.

Alex turns on his side, placing his fingertips on the sheet. Close but not quite touching Henry, not yet. He closes his eyes, and listens to Henry's quiet breathing--a sure sign that he's alive.

As he drifts off to sleep, Alex thinks that with Henry, he might just believe in destinies.

***

Alex wakes up pressed against something warm. He opens his eyes. Henry's forehead presses against Alex's own, and he has an arm wrapped around his waist.

Right, this is not awkward at all.

Carefully, he lifts Henry's arm, gently tucking it into the small space between them. He rolls over to his bedside but he ends up on the floor with a loud thump and a sore head. As he soothes his headache, the first thing that crosses his mind is, _damn I must have woken up Henry._

"Are you okay?" Speak of the devil. Henry peeks from the bed’s edge, sleep mused and his voice raspy.

"Fine," he lies. "We should go check up Pez."

Henry frowns. "Christ, I forgot to change your bandage last night."

Alex grumbles, crossing his arms. At least Henry's mood has softened since last night.

Henry pulls him up on the bed. They sit, facing each other. Henry peels away the bandage. He cleans it again with a wet cloth which stings Alex's skin. Alex winces; he glances down. Two buttons on Henry's collar are popped open so his shirt hangs low. Alex tries not to look at the knobs of his collarbone showing; tries not to imagine the hard planes underneath.

_God, what is wrong with you?_

Henry puts on a clean bandage, every touch delicate just like before.

“Can you walk?” Henry asks after he finishes packing.

“I’m fine," he huffs. “Seriously, I just fell off the fucking bed. You’re acting like I was stabbed by a mantisaur.”

“Well, I'm glad you appreciate my kindness." Alex gladly takes his irritability. At least he's not thinking about the strange fluttering feeling in his chest.

They do one last sweep of the room before heading outside to meet Pez, and continue on their trek to the Old MSI factory.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I apologize for not updating last Friday, had some stuff going on. Hopefully, we're back to our regular schedule. This one is a chunky one though!
> 
>  **Content warnings:** descriptions of blood, injury, and death. Also bugs

After a half day trek through the Badlands, Alex, Henry and Pez finally make it to the old MSI factory. _Monarch Stellar Industries_ on a decrepit arch welcomes them. The letters on the MSI logo are tinted with candy cane stripes, which is strange for a Board factory.

“This is the MSI factory? It looks more like an amusement park,” Alex wonders aloud, gawking at the roller coasters, the giant ferris wheel, and the garish pink and yellow paint peeling off the buildings. The most impressive structure is the tower in front of them.

“The design is meant to evoke a sense of wonder in the employees,” Pez says. He waves his hand dismissively. "Helps increase productivity."

Alex pulls the extractor from his belt. He takes a single look at the screen and the dials, and his head comes up with nothing, zero, _zilch_. No idea how to use the damn thing. Fuck, he should have asked Luna.

"Shit," Alex says when he checks his terminal: three missed calls, and thirty messages from June. _Shit_ , he quickly types a message telling his sister he hasn't been eaten by a mantisaur and they had arrived at the factory. Just before he presses send, the terminal buzzes--a call from June.

"Hey uhh--hi?" he answers.

 _"Hi Alex--_ " June says.

"Look, I'm sorry I forgot to call, okay?" Alex blathers, his heart racing. "We were busy setting up camp last night, and I totally forgot to call you. I’m really sorry.”

"More like _I_ was busy setting up camp," Henry says.

“Shut up,” Alex says through his teeth.

 _"That was pretty shitty of you to be honest."_ June either didn’t hear Henry or she ignored his statement. Regardless, Alex imagines her rolling her eyes as she always does with Alex’s antics. _"But that's not why I called. Luna's wondering if you've got the signal yet?_ "

"I would if I could figure how to use this thing." Alex twists the dials a few times, yet the screen is blank. He tries again. "Also why can't Luna just call me?"

" _Probable liability. He says he won't risk giving out his number to an unplanned variable."_

"I'm the Unplanned Variable, huh? Interesting nickname, better than _The Stranger_."

_"Don't get your hopes up that a broadcaster will pick up the nickname and use it for your coverage."_

The screen still stays blank. Alex grimaces, and then, he inhales, pushing down his growing irritation as he sucks in a breath. _Think,_ if the signal is coming from outside Monarch, how can he best capture it?

He raises his hand, pointing the device to the sky. After a moment, the extractor beeps. A wave appears on the screen which oscillates as Alex twists the red dial.

"Hey June, I think I got it!" Alex says. No answer. He tries again. "Bug, you still there?"

"Maybe she grew tired of waiting?" Pez says.

Alex ignores Pez, his heart beating fast. "June, seriously, if this is still about how I forgot to call you last night, then I'm really--"

 _"Hi Alex_!" It's Nora. _"Just plug the extractor on your terminal and we'll take a look from here._ "

"Nora, where's June?" he asks.

 _"I'm right here_ ," June answers, a soft sound in the background.

 _"I'm also right here,_ " Luna says. _"Welcome to the old MSI factory, kid_!"

"Are y'all just using my sister's terminal to communicate or what?" Alex asks. He doesn't wait for an answer. "Anyway, how do I plug it on my terminal?"

 _"There should be a comm port in your terminal_ , _"_ Luna answers.

Alex twists his arm, examining his terminal. He frowns, confused at all the bolts and knobs. Henry points out the tiny silver block protruding from the screen. Alex flashes him a self-conscious smile. Henry looks away, pink on his cheeks, the corner of his lip curling.

Alex plugs the extractor on the port.

"Okay, I've got the extractor on," he says.

 _"Checking it out on our end_ ," Luna says. A machine chirps on their end, buzzing like a ship's engine coming to life. The machine stops, and Luna comes back on the line. _"Signal's not good._ "

"Fuck, what did I do wrong?"

It's Nora who answers. _"Well, nothing. We got parts of it but not enough to form something coherent. Maybe, try someplace else? Like someplace higher?_ "

Alex looks at the tower. A square building sits atop, with a spire attached to its side.

Beneath the sun rays, the structure looks as though it was made of emeralds. It's the tallest structure in the factory, and the perfect place to grab a signal.

"Nora, I know a place where we can grab the signal," Alex calls. "I'll call again once we get there."

 _"Sure_ , _we'll be here, watching clouds,_ " Nora says, and she ends the call.

Alex turns to Henry and Pez.

"Okay so, to the tower?" Alex says, pointing finger guns at his proposed destination.

Henry shakes his head, but says, "Let's go."

Pez has an unusually dour look on his face as he stares at the tower.

"Something wrong?" Alex asks.

"No, not a single thing. Nothing you need to worry about." Pez grins, his charming demeanor back in place as if it has never changed.

Alex is unconvinced but he doesn't press.

As they make their way to the tower, a pungent, meaty scent fills the air. Something skitters, and hisses behind the prefabs--manitsaurs. Alex's jaw clenches. He moves closer to Henry and Pez.

A mantisaur jumps out of a prefab. It swipes a claw. Alex ducks, and rolls, missing the mantisaur’s attack by the skin of his hair. More mantisaurs jump out of the buildings, hissing and baring their skewers.

“Run!” Alex shouts.

They sprint to the tower. He looks for an opening, but there are none.

Mantisaurs pour out of every crevice. Mantisaurs skitter out of every prefab, of every alleyway and crevice. Shit. They can’t take them all. He thinks, and he thinks, and his mind comes up with nothing, addled by the panic overtaking his body.

Suddenly, a door on the tower opens. There’s a man inside. He shoots his rifle, piercing a mantisaur’s throat.

“Get in!” he yells.

Alex dashes inside, followed by Pez. They hold the door for Henry, who skips, long legs propelling him inside. Alex notices the panel on the wall--an elevator panel. He presses the button with the two arrows facing inward. Their mystery man keeps firing at the mantisaurs as the door closes.

Alex slumps down, catching his breath. He hears the mantisaurs strike the tower from the outside.

“Is it gonna hold?” he breathes, heart smacking inside his ribs.

Their mystery man presses a button on the panel, and the elevator moves.

“It’s made from the same reinforced steel as the vaults. If those stood the test of time, dirt, and radiation, this tower can withstand a few scrapes,” he says, pushing up his foggy glasses.

"Dr. Jack Harper," Pez says, leaning on the wall, his chest heaving. "I thought you and your scientists were dead."

"Percy Okonjo, I figured that was you.” The man--Dr. Harper, grins. “And you brought friends.”

“This is Dr. Harper. He’s Monarch Stellar Industries’ lead scientist,” Pez says, and he limply gestures at Alex. “This is Alex, _The Unreliable’s_ captain.”

“I haven’t heard of a ship docking on Monarch in years,” Dr. Harper says.

Pez gestures at Henry. “You know Henry, right?”

“Yes, I’ve heard of him.” Dr. Harper squints. Henry’s eyes widen, his back pressed on the wall as if he wants to disappear into it. “You’re Pez’s friend from boarding school.”

“Yes, right,” Henry exhales audibly. “I’m just visiting a friend.”

One of Dr. Harper’s dark eyebrows shoots up. “Just visiting?”

“Oh, Henry’s actually writing a travel journal for the Halcyon Observer!” Alex says, standing up. “Although, we haven’t really done much sightseeing on Monarch--or at all.”

“A travel journal. Interesting,” Dr. Harper muses. “That would be perfect for our research!”

“What’s the research you were doing anyway?” Pez asks.

"As you know we came here to gather materials," he says, a pause, and then he continues. "We stayed because we wished to study the mantisaurs. See if we can find anything that can help Monarch against our insect problem."

"If it's important, maybe you can publish your findings in the Halcyon Observer," Alex suggests.

“The Halcyon Observer is a Byzantium publication," Dr. Harper scoffs, shaking his head. "They'll never allow an article from Monarch."

"So let Henry interview you then," Alex insists. "Spin it as an inside look at Monarch's fascinating creatures."

“Truly, I don’t think the editors would--” Alex glares at Henry, who glares back. They stare at each other for a moment. Alex knits his brows together, putting on his worst scowl. He intends to win this dumb, impromptu contest.

Finally, Henry relents. “I suppose we could do an interview after we extract the signal.”

“From one of the satellites?” Dr. Harper says, holding back his laughter with a tight-lipped smile.

Alex nods his _yes_ just as the elevator dings. The doors hiss open. They're on the top floor where the westerly winds of Monarch blow steadily, licking the skin on their necks. Dr. Harper leads them to an area with no roof. A woman reads a data pad to a group of scientists armed with rifles. Alex can't recognize what she's saying, but it's weird that the scientists are armed. Mantisaurs can't climb the tower.

"If you need anything ask Dr. Liang." Dr. Harper tilts his head towards the woman. He chuckles. "Do it after she's done reading the reports. She can get feisty if you interrupt her."

Sounds like another woman in a white overcoat Alex knows.

"Where are you going?" Alex asks.

"Oh, I'm going to be checking in our supplies," Dr. Harper says. He leaves, walking towards the large crates.

Alex takes out the extractor. He raises his hand. Within a minute, the extractor beeps. He attaches it to the terminal, and hopes.

"Nora," Alex calls. "Did you get it?"

 _"We still can't get a good reading_ ," Nora says.

"What?" Alex replies hoarsely. "This is as high as we can go."

There's a pause on the line. " _Luna thinks we can extract the signal from here but it's going to take time._ "

The tower shakes. Alex leans over the railing. Mantisaurs clump on the ground, hissing and clawing at the tower’s feet. One insect breaks from the sea of green, pushing its pincers on the tower as though clay, not metal.

So much for a reinforced steel that withstood the apocalypse.

This mantisaur is larger than the others, its head sloped and tinged purple; its belly white and dotted with holes. Swarms buzz around its head like a crown. His comm link registers, Mantiqueen. Is this the mother of the brood?

"They've never done that before," Dr. Liang mutters, her fingernails scraping the rails. She turns her head back. "Sir, the mantiqueen is climbing the tower."

"Bring out the tanks," Dr. Harper orders.

The scientists lug gray containers and fans from the laboratory. They tilt one of the containers against the rail, pushing it so the mouth sits between the bars. Dr. Liang reaches over, twisting the cap. She pushes the fan by the container, and turns it on. A floral perfume permeates, mild yet the tang sticks to the roof of his mouth. With the fans pointing at the insect, the scent floods the mantiqueen. The insect screeches, rearing its head back but its grip on the metal doesn't budge.

“Whatever you’re planning, do it now,” Pez says, mounting his rifle on the railing.

He looks up. The spire stretches for another fifteen feet, a cylindrical shape flecked with red copper as if an oak tree. Bars rusted like the structure jut out from its side like an elongated headless scarecrow. This is higher than any tree or parapet he has climbed, even higher than the rock arch.

"Don't worry," Henry says from behind him. "I got you."

Alex nods and brings his comm terminal to his mouth. "Hey Nora, still there?"

" _Yeah, just adding a noise filter to Luna’s demodulator so we can get the signal from where you're standing_ ," she says, gears squeak in the background. " _Ugh this stuff is really old, older than the machines in Edgewater. Like the blueprint smells like it could be from when_ The Groundbreaker _first arrived."_

"You might not need to."

_"Huh? But there's still so much noise on your end."_

_"_ I figured out how to get a clearer signal." He holds on to a bar, his heart beating fast. "I'm climbing up to the antenna."

There's a deafening silence on the other side. No squeaks from wrenches; no clicks from snipping wires, not even Nora's breathing.

 _“Do you want your chances?”_ Nora asks after a moment, the stutter clear in her voice. Alex doesn't answer but she rattles anyway. “ _9 in 10 chances this will all end with your body splattered on the ground. 1 in 10 chances, you’ll get the signal_.”

"Can you get June please?" Alex says.

" _Hey, Nora told me you found a way to get a clearer signal?_ " June says.

"Tell Mom and Dad, I love them okay."

_"Wait, what? Alex, what's going--"_

He ends the call. No sister should hear their brother fall to their death.

Alex grabs the first bar, hoisting himself on the spire. He reaches for the next bar. He grunts as he pulls himself up, hugging the spire for purchase. So far, so good. He looks down. The mantiqueen nears the tower, despite the scientists’, Pez’s, and Henry’s efforts to slow it down. Henry stands by the spire, guarding it as if it’s the last line of defense they have.

Alex continues climbing. His blood pumps behind his ears as he reaches another bar. He’s halfway up. His palms are sweaty, and his limbs scream at their soreness, but he’s almost there. His heart pushes against his throat. Alex listens to it, and counts, matching the rhythm of his climb to his own heartbeat.

One. Grab.

Two. Pull.

Three. He’s on the next bar. The antenna is within sight.

Four. Reach.

Five...

The bar bends _down_ when he tries to pull. His sweaty hands slip.

 _Five_.

Alex eyes the bar which is two bars away from the one he barely hangs on to. He heaves himself up.

Six. The antenna sits on a black hemisphere, which sits on the spire. Alex digs his fingers around the hemisphere, hoisting himself up.

Seven. The wind passes through him like a spectre, slithering underneath his clothes, and through his hair. Alex sees the whole of Monarch from atop the spire: Stellar Bay, and its golden lights, the misty clouds surrounding the Man on the Moon radio station, and the Badlands, a stretch of trees, and shrubbery. Beautiful-- _breathtakingly_ gorgeous. The Board is wrong to leave this scenery at the mercy of monsters.

Alex's smile stretches from cheek to cheek. He revels in this small victory. Hugging the antenna, Alex takes out the extractor. He raises it as high as he can, as far as he can reach.

 _Come on_. He’s counting again, an empty list just like on the arch. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek. Alex tastes it when he licks his lips.

After what seems like a thousand years, the extractor beeps--a cheerful sound. Alex laughs and laughs and laughs, goosebumps breaking on the skin of his arms. He attaches the extractor to his terminal, and pushes Nora’s number.

"Nora?" he calls. “Everything good?”

A beat of silence on the other line.

" _Yes!"_ Nora says. " _You did it! Signal looks great on my end_.”

The mantisaurs strike the tower. Alex pushes up, using all of his strength to cling to the antenna. The tower stills. Alex counts his breaths. Carefully, he stretches his foot, reaching for the bar below him.

And the antenna snaps.

Monarch's sky is really pretty, like the sunsets on Earth. No wonder they name this place Terra-1. He doesn’t regret a single thing about leaving Earth and coming here.

As he falls, he thinks, maybe he does regret one thing.

There's a footnote in his Old World history books about the American annexation of Mexico in 2056 C.E.

Two hundred years after the Alamo.

Except the books didn't call it annexation.

Unification.

They call it unification under the Continetal North American States Act of 2056.

Annexation.

He learned that from his father.

His father's parents learned it from their parents who pushed their way out of the California Vaults.

Carrying with them scraps of history.

Anecdotes. Journals. Trinkets. Holo tapes if they're lucky. (They aren't.)

Of life during the annexation.

The books don't mention a war--an _invasion_.

They don't mention the rebellions either.

The bombs fell.

And history resets.

Did they have Vaults in Mexico City?

(Did they care?)

(Does Mexico City even exist after 2056 C.E. or was it rebranded as something American like apple pie and baseball?)

Seventy years later, he'll never know.

Distantly, he hears his name, a gentle wave amidst the storm. When Alex opens his eyes, Henry's kind face and deep blue eyes greet him.

_The fuck?_

There were too many factors here. Too many moving pieces. Dizzily, his brain comes up with a list.

  1. Yes, the antenna did in fact snap like a twig. Poor rusted thing, wasn't meant for rugged captains to climb like a tree.
  2. Yes, he was falling. Had fallen?
  3. _That was a near death experience, dumbass._
  4. He hasn't died.
  5. At least he thinks he hasn't died. Or else this is some fucked up afterlife if Henry is the first to welcome him.
  6. Henry carries him like a damsel.



Alex would be embarrassed about it if he has the energy to be embarrassed

This whole thing--this whole Henry catches him as he falls, and make it _look_ effortless is doing _a lot_ to Alex’s head

"Are you okay?" Henry asks. Alex is too shocked to feel anything. The extractor beeps quietly in his hand, a soft pulse on his chest, a signal saying he’s alive.

“I got it,” Alex quirks up his mouth--a tiny, bone-tired smile. Victorious.

Alex’s victory is short-lived. The mantiqueen climbs on the railing. She swipes her claws in an arc, knocking the scientists off the rails. She screeches. The skewers protruding from her mouth are dripping with liquid. Dr. Liang aims a gatling gun at the mantiqueen. The mantiqueen slams her head down, crushing the gun with her skewers. Dr. Liang rolls in time. She takes out her pistol, shooting at the mantiqueen.

“Get inside the laboratory!” Dr. Harper shouts.

They retreat inside. Henry carries Alex as he follows Pez. Dr. Harper draws a horizontal line in the air with his hand. The doors slam shut. _Bang. Bang_. The mantiqueen knocks, but the metal doors hold, resisting its furious blows. Henry sets Alex down. Alex’s legs buck as his feet touch the ground, his muscles shaking from everything that has transpired. They catch their breaths. They’re safe, for now.

Alex familiarizes with the surroundings. The laboratory is, well, it’s a textbook image of the laboratories he’s seen in the vids, and in _Roseway_. Except there are no strange people in tanks, shelves with knick-knacks, and this laboratory is smaller, shaped like a perfect square. Tables line the wall on his right, each contain a weirdly shaped, and bumpy ball. However, those aren't the weirdest things in this room. No, the most peculiar things in the laboratory are the chitin lying on every corner of the room.

How did they get in here? The mantiqueen can't even penetrate through the fortified walls, and yet the babies--the _mantipillars_ have gone through.

Alex looks at the balls on the tables again. Bile rises up his throat when he realizes what they are and to what these mutilated parts belong. Mantipillars.

"This is our research," Dr. Harper says in a soft, sweet voice; it makes Alex sick. "We're trying to create a toxin that kills these monsters."

Alex balls up his fist. He swings his arm back, ready to punch Dr. Harper's stupid white teeth.

Pez grabs his shoulder.

"Alex, don't," he pleads. Alex nudges his grasp, but another hand holds him in place, from Henry.

“Do you not see what you’ve done?” Alex sweeps his gaze around the room, looking at all of the scientists and their flushed faces. “ _All_ of you.”

Dr. Liang’s mouth quivers. She opens her mouth, but Dr. Harper interrupts before she can say anything.

"You had no problem with letting us shoot and maim the mantisaurs. You might have killed a few yourselves on the way here." Dr. Harper's eyes are dark behind his glasses. "Why care about these monsters, now?"

He's right. Why should Alex care about the mantisaurs when all they have done is terrorize the land?

He looks at these mantipillars and their disembodied forms, listens to the desperate wails of the mantiqueen, and puts an image on them. A grieving mother weeping for her child. A vengeful mother wanting to bring wrath upon the monsters who took and maimed her children.

"They're her _babies_!" Alex says, and he sounds just as desperate, just as angry as the mantiqueen.

“They’re _monsters_.” Dr. Harper pushes his glasses up, his lenses gleaming which makes him look terrifying. “Monsters that the Board left us to deal with, and it’s about time we _deal_ with these monsters beyond letting them terrorize our land.”

“My mother wouldn’t approve.” Pez scowls, tight-lipped. “She’ll close all of this down if she finds out about the mantipillars.”

"I thought you, _Percy_ , would be smarter than your mother, but turns out you're just as foolish." Dr. Harper sneers.

"At least she won't stoop so low to gain our acceptance into the Board," Pez says.

"Oh, but the Board will _never_ accept us. Don’t you know what the Chief Director said when he denied our re-application?" Dr. Harper's dark laugh sends a shiver down Alex's spine. "He called us backwater _scum_ who deserve the monsters at our doorstep."

Alex is not surprised. Pez isn't either, he just looks sad, disappointed at the Board's cruelty.

"One more sample. That's all we need." Dr. Harper says cooly, as if his outburst hadn't happened. "It'll be enough to kill every mantisaur in this place."

"No, this stops now!" Alex clenches his jaw. He stands on the balls of his feet, gaze boring into Dr. Harper's dark eyes. "You are not taking anymore of her children to raise them to _die_."

A claw punctures through the prefab, scraping down the wall like a hot knife on soft butter. Alex grips his pistol, heart thundering behind his ears. The mantiqueen bursts through, shrieking. The scientists fire, the bullets piercing her hardened skin.

“No! Don’t shoot! She’s important for our research!” Dr. Harper yells, knocking Alex on the ground. He inputs a command on his terminal. Harpoons stick out on the ground. They release. They don't pierce the mantiqueen. Instead, the harpoons whip and twist around her arms before they strike the wall. The mantiqueen thrashes. She stomps her feet, swiping her claws however far she can with her binds.

A sharp pain injects Alex's leg, searing a fire along his tendons. The mantiqueen’s claw has jabbed into his skin. God. _Fuck_. Everything becomes hazy, and red. So much red. He feels sick just looking at it, at his own blood. Tears well up in his eyes. A moment ago, he was on top of the world for he has looked Death in the eye, and said “not today.” Now, his own mortality looks back at him, reflected on the floor.

As if activated by a trigger, his brain scrambles up a list:

One.

One.

One.

Gunshots pop. Through half-lidded eyes, Alex sees Henry fire his pistol at the mantiqueen. She shrieks, releasing her claw.

There's more blood, just _too_ much of it. He can't look at it. He _can_ ' _t_. He closes his eyes.

“We have to retreat!” He hears Dr. Liang, her voice mixed in with a cacophony of sounds. Alex can't focus on any of them. There's too many frantic footsteps, too much dying, and people getting hurt and the mantiqueen screeching, and stomping, and--

"Alex!" That voice, it's familiar. Alex has heard it tell stories of summer villas in Byzantium, argue with him about nonsensical things, and laugh at Alex's silly jokes whether he finds it funny or not.

He compared it to Earth once, to home.

"Stay with us, Alex." That one too, it's familiar. Alex has sat around a campfire with him, laughing and eating crackers, and talking about dreams.

He feels strong arms lift him up. Alex opens his eyes--a Herculean effort, but he gets them open halfway. He sees Henry's face, his _handsome_ face, which looks just as perfect even as he's wracked with fear.

If this is how Alex is going to go, he needs to tell Henry one thing that has been pushing at his throat since _The Groundbreaker._

"Henry," he says, reaching up to touch Henry's cheek. "Henry, I--there's something I want to tell you."

Henry turns his mouth to Alex's hand--a gesture so gentle, so tender, Alex's heart might burst.

"You're going to me okay. Stay with me. _You're going to be okay_ ," Henry says and says, a prayer and a mantra. Alex believes him.

Alex hears Dr. Harper cry out, hears a sickening crunch. Alex tunes out the sounds, and listens to Henry's mantra. They rush inside the infirmary, and the door slams shut. Dr. Liang sees them, the blood on Alex’s leg dripping on Henry’s arms.

"Get him on the medical table. _Now_!" she orders, commanding, yet there's a kindness in her not seen with Dr. Harper.

Henry makes quick work of unlacing his boot. He slides the boot forward, tilting it up and a searing heat strikes Alex’s ankle. Alex bites his lip _hard_ , stops himself from screaming. He thrashes, bucking off the med table.

Pez holds him down. "Jesus Christ, mate! Be careful!

"Yeah whatever Pez said," Alex moans.

"I'm trying! It's just all of these are in the fucking way." Henry sounds as delirious as Alex, like he was the one _stabbed_. Once Henry has rolled up Alex's pants, he injects a syringe filled with clear, colourless liquid into the skin around the gash. Numbness floods Alex’s veins, cutting the sensations on his leg.

Dr. Liang takes over, procuring a needle and a thread from her med kit. Alex feels neither the needle piercing his skin nor the thread stitching the laceration.

This is fucking worse than the burning.

"This ain't pretty but at least you won't bleed to death," she says after she finishes. "Have a real doc look at it when you get out of here. _If_ you get out of here."

Dr. Liang walks away, caring for another scientist whose arm had been ripped off, white peeking out of the ripped flesh. Alex squeezes his eyes shut, but he sees the carnage behind his eyelids, as if it had been painted there.

He feels--

He _feels_ numb. Like his emotions have been crudely carved out--the parts that make him feel--leaving only a hollowed shell, void of anything.

(It’s not from the anesthesia.)

At some point, Alex drifts to sleep. He dreams of nothing.

The sounds of crying from outside of the infirmary wake him up. Alex blinks, his surroundings sharpening as his eyes adjust to the light. The infirmary door is still glued shut and Dr. Liang slumps on the wall beside it. Pez sits on the medical bed next to his, his sunglasses hang on his collar. He’s pulling at the hem of his sleeve, the polish on his fingers flecked. Henry sits on a chair next to him. He’s not writing in his journal, surprisingly.

Alex turns on his side, facing Henry.

“You should lie down,” he says, “sit on a medical bed or something.”

“I’m good,” Henry says. The half-moon marks under his eyes tell Alex he’s not.

The crying sounds in the laboratory grow louder. Every other beat, Alex hears skewers clicking. They’re from the mantiqueen.

"Fuck this," Dr. Liang says. She storms to another room. A moment later, she returns. Curled in her arms is a sleeping mantipillar.

"Harper hid this in his quarters in case its mother came snooping. In case _you_ come snooping around," Dr. Liang says, but she's only looking at Pez. She nods at the door.

"I don't know if we can undo the damage we've done, but this--" She scratches the mantipillar's crown with her finger, "--returning her child, it's a start."

Warmth blooms inside Alex's ribcage, spreading into his limbs like how hope spreads.

"I'll take it back," he says.

"No, you can't," Henry says. "I'll do it."

"He's right." Pez hops off the bed. "Let me take it."

"No, you have to help the others," Alex says, and turns to Henry. "Both of you.”

Henry protests. "But your leg."

"I can handle it," he lies.

Dr. Liang carefully hands him the mantipillar. He cradles the insect like a baby, rubbing its soft chitin.

"Hey little guy, I'm taking you back to your mommy, okay?" Alex coos. The mantipillar croons, clicking its skewers.

“Be careful out there,” Pez says, patting his shoulder.

“If anything happens, you know what to do.” He offers his pistol to Henry. Henry hesitates before taking it.

Henry is looking at him again. The air between them is as thick and static as the clouds in a nebula. It's there. Alex knows. It's the reason why he scaled 15 feet of rusted metal bars, and survived after the mantiqueen stabbed him. It's the reason why he's fighting the Board even if he's least qualified to do so.

It's there. They just have put a word to it.

"Alex," Henry calls, and he stops. Alex waits for a moment, seeing if he continues. He doesn't, and Alex turns away.

Just as Alex walks out of the infirmary, he hears Henry say, "Don't die."

***

Alex limps out into the laboratory, the numbness wearing off and the pain in his ankle is a white-hot flame, searing into his tendons. The mantipillar nuzzles his chest, stretching its tail and wiggling its stubby legs. He wonders if it dreams like children do; if it feels pain when struck; if it’ll remember this laboratory and its siblings, how it saw them die, one by one.

The mantiqueen screeches, struggling against the rope.

“This--this is your baby, right?” he says, keeping distance.

He kneels on the ground. Gently, he unlatches the mantipillar from his chest, lying it so it faces its mother. Alex picks up a machete. He approaches the mantiqueen, pressing the blade on the rope between her belly. The insect swats with its claws, however far she can, stomping her legs.

"Hey! I'm trying to help you!" He ducks, missing the sharp end of the claws by the tips of his hair. He feels the stitches on his leg come loose. The anesthetic has worn completely off. _Shit_. It burns, little claws pulling back the flesh. He curls his fingernails into his palm; his breath coming in shallow. He can do this. He can do this.

He _has_ to do this. Set things right.

With one swift motion, the rope slides off the mantiqueen’s legs like silk.

“I don’t know what it’s like to lose a kid.” He rounds back in front of the mantiqueen. “But I do know what it's like to lose a parent. And it sucks."

He doesn’t know if the mantiqueen understands or even hears what he’s saying. Maybe, this truly is the monster which makes the strongest men cower in fear; the monster they weave folklore about.

Or maybe, she is a victim of the Board's corruption like they all are.

The mantipillar wakes, fluttering their beady eyes, like tiny solar eclipses. They chirp, three tones in different octaves. A song for their mother.

Alex cuts the rest of the ropes and they fall onto the floor like leaves.

The mantiqueen approaches her baby, thudding on the steel ground. She croons, touching her head against the mantipillar's. They reply in kind. It’s cute in a weird way. The mantiqueen picks up the mantipillar, cradling them in her pincers. She gives Alex a look, before crawling out of the comm tower.

Alex watches Monarch's sky from the giant hole in the wall. A warmth blooms in his chest, spreading through his limbs.

This. This is Hope.

***

The mantisuars have cleared out when Alex, Henry, Pez, Dr. Liang and the other surviving scientists get down the tower. They carry with them data pads, blueprints and prototypes of all the research they have done in the last eight months. Turns out not all of Dr. Harper's findings were completely worthless. They can turn it into something new, something that would benefit Monarch without needing the Board. Alex believes they can.

A sky car lands on the courtyard; Luna waves at them from the pilot's seat. The door hisses, and slides upward. June hops off the shuttle, followed by Nora. June runs towards him and hugs him.

"Oh my God, Alex," she says. "Don't ever hang up like that again or I'll kick your ass!"

“Hey, I’m all in one piece!” he says, “Right guys?”

Henry grimaces. Pez stifles a laugh.

"Yes, why thank you Alex for not only saving our asses but stopping the extinction of Monarch’s precious species," Alex says in a sing-song voice.

Pez places a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just say your dear brother is quite the adventurer. Truly daring.”

“Yeah I know, he used to go streaking out the front porch in our old house,” June says.

Nora comments. “Amazing."

Pez gasps. “A sly rebel!”

“Yes, quite scandalous,” Henry adds.

“I was five!” Alex protests. “And it was 86 degrees!”

June rubs his hair. “Aww, maybe all that radiation got through your head.”

She smiles and laughs, and it’s all good. Alex notices June looking at his pants: the faded bloodstain, the long cut on the cloth tucked carelessly in his boot, his limp. She says nothing.

Nora slides her hand in his jacket pocket. “Hey!”

“I need to check something.” She fishes Luna’s extractor, comparing it with the one in her hand.

"Shit. Just as I thought." She pushes both radios in his face. "Look."

Luna’s extractor has a wave on the screen, jagged like the cliffs in a canyon, oscillating at different points. The extractor next to it has strings of numbers and letters on the screen as if it's a paragraph in a book.

"It's uh...a bunch of numbers and letters?" he asks, quizzically. "And that one has lines?"

"This is the signal." She waves Luna’s extractor then she waves her extractor. "This is the data we extracted from the signal."

"Wait, but these look like a bunch of scrambled nonsense!" he says. "Didn't Zahra say it's supposed to be a message?"

"Actually, what if those characters aren't the message but a code?" Henry postulates, "I don't know the specifics of cryptography--"

"Yeah, it's encrypted," she says, light catching her eyes. "First we need to decode this from base-64 to base-2, then convert them to letters, if it does contain letters. Then, we can find the cipher and solve the code from there!"

Alex frowns. This still doesn't make an iota of sense.

"Don't worry!" Nora throws her arm around his shoulder. "I'm sure it won't take longer than a few hours!"

"Yeah, I'm sure it wouldn't." Alex grins.

Luna helps them back on the skycar. When Alex moves to get inside, Luna stops him.

"You did great today, kid." he says, awed. "The Board's right to be afraid of you."

"Uhh...thanks, I guess?" Alex says, scratching his nape.

"Listen, remember what I said about the Board? About the tricks they have?" Luna asks.

"Yeah, the lecture you gave me on how the Board is smart and evil?"

"It wasn't a lecture, you ass!" Luna slaps a datapad on Alex's chest.

Alex takes the datapad. He reads the title: _Lifetime Employment Program, Codename: Project Lazarus_.

"This is--" he starts, unable to find the words. "You're giving me--"

"Yeah, caught you looking at it when you left the station." Alex's lips twist into a deep frown. "But don't worry, I'm not mad. I did steal this from the Board for a reason."

Alex looks at the title again. Questions race in his mind, but the only one that comes out is.

"What's the Lifetime Employment Program?"

Luna hushes him. "Don't ask. Just read it, okay?"

Alex nods.

Luna helps him inside the skycar. He shuts the door. Alex sits on the empty spot between Henry and June. They don't ask about the datapad on his lap. Luna appears behind the driver's seat. Twisting the ignition, the skycar comes to life, and flies away from the old MSI factory.

***

When they're halfway through the Badlands, Alex lays his head on Henry’s shoulder.

"Hey," Alex mumbles, his eyes half-closed, "would you write about this, the little things?"

He feels Henry shift beside him.

"Absolutely."


	9. Chapter 9

So the only thing the decoded message has told them is that the location of the formula is in Byzantium.

Great, they narrow the location down to the general vicinity of Halcyon's capital, full of inconspicuous prefabs that are _not_ hoarding dimethyl sulfoxide.

After a week of doing nothing in Monarch while Nora cracks the code, Alex has had enough. They refill their supplies, drag Pez onto the ship--at his most humble request--and set a course for Byzantium. The ETA for the capital from Monarch is roughly another week. Nora will have the exact location by then.

Four days and however how many light years away from Monarch, Nora drums her fingers to the beat of the wave pulsing on the screen. The navigation panel is the only true light source in this room's midnight shroud.

This isn't the first time Alex has seen Nora ponder in the cockpit at this hour. She works on the code day and night, stopping only for snacks and an occasional shower. On these nights, Alex takes down a chair from his quarters. His sleep schedule is messed up enough without the influence of meaningless code.

He reads Luna's data pad. Nothing on it reveals any new information on Project Lazarus, other than it has been renamed as _Lifetime Employment Program._ The note on there says _The salvation of our beloved system_ , but has nothing on _what_ this salvation is.

The rest of the data pad contains logs from a communication tower on the asteroid Scylla, which track supply lines from Earth. Boring stuff--who reads a shopping list of goods for fun?

The last log, however, isn't about supply lines:

> _Date: 2355-05-01_
> 
> _Effective this morning, CHIEF DIRECTOR JEFFREY RICHARDS has taken over from DIRECTOR CATHERINE WINDSOR on the communications between Earth and Halcyon._
> 
> _As you may already know, Catherine has taken a step back from her duties since the sudden death of her husband in 2350. Five years later, the Director is still in grief, and DIRECTOR MARY WINDSOR feels it is appropriate that the CHIEF DIRECTOR takes over._
> 
> _She'll of course still keep the title Director of Earth Liaisons, as condolences from the CHIEF DIRECTOR._
> 
> _Operations on Scylla will continue. Please redirect your reports to CHIEF DIRECTORY JEFFREY RICHARDS._

Nora reaches inside a bag beneath the chair. She rips open an energy bar, tossing the silver wrapper on the floor along other sticky wrappers. She offers him a bar.

"I'm good." Alex scrunches his nose.

Nora shrugs, and takes a bite of the energy bar. The screen turns an angry red. Nora frowns. She bumps her forehead on the screen.

"Can you randomize it again?” she says.

"Log 3-563917, " DIA says in a cool, soothing voice. "What do you wish to say for the log?"

"Don't log it!" Nora digs the heels of her palm on her eyes.

The machine makes a noise. The waves pulse again, a never-ending line of bumps.

Alex puts away the data pad. He stretches his arms over his head. "I'm gonna try to get some sleep, okay?"

"You go do that."

Alex puts a careful hand on her shoulder. Nora twitches from his touch. "You should get some sleep too. At least for tonight."

Nora blinks, her bleary bloodshot eyes reflected on the screen. "Yeah, sure."

***

Alex dreams of hazy green skies. He spins around and around in a field until he falls down laughing. Then a mantiqueen screeches, raising her claw. She stabs.

Alex jolts awake. He kicks the covers. The ship's recycled air does little for his hot sticky skin. He sits up, and tugs at his pajama leg, exposing the stitched incision on his calf.

There are three stitches. He counts: one, two, three, again and again, until his heart slows.

The surgeon at Stellar Bay had fixed Dr. Liang's hack job. The pain lingers, however, cutting a different wound on his skin, deeper, striking his core.

He checks the messaging system on his terminal. There are two people online at this hour, Nora and Henry. Nora's busy with the code so she'll probably block him for disturbing her concentration.

So Alex texts Henry:

 **alex.claremontdiaz** started messaging **henry.fox** at 2355-11-11 3:30 AM (HLCST)

 **acd:** hey  
 **acd:** you up?

He thinks of sending a quick _nevermind, night_ and dropping the issue entirely, but then:

 **henry.fox** is typing…

 **hf** : What do you need at this ungodly hour?  
 **acd:** it's stupid  
 **acd** : i cant sleep  
 **hf** : Ask June to sing you a lullaby.  
 **acd** : fuck off you ass  
 **acd** : do u see her awake?  
 **hf:** Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?  
 **hf** : I'm afraid I can’t lull you to sleep like an angel.  
 **acd** : you can do all of that and more if you come into my room sweetheart

Just as Alex thinks Henry isn’t coming, a soft knock raps at his door. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a cape, and pads to the entrance. Henry is outside, carrying David. He looks, well, _ordinary_ , trading his dress shirts and slacks for a simple tee and soft pajamas.

“I'm afraid I don't know any lullabies,” is how he greets him.

“Just come in,” Alex insists.

Henry gawks at the expanse of stars, carved into the captain's quarters. Alex is glad Henry loves it too, this piece of the galaxy on his window wall. Alex sits on the floor, leaning on his bed. Henry follows him. David jumps out of his arms and trots over to Alex's side.

"I keep thinking about what happened at the old MSI factory." Alex is surprised at how easy the words spill from his mouth. Henry makes it easy, or--as he pets David's back--his dog does.

"And you can't sleep because you can't escape the trauma in your sleep," Henry says. He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip, deep in thought, then adds, "I can't either."

They sit in silence. David has fallen asleep. The stars move, glittering diamonds on a sea of nothingness. Alex curls his knees to his chest. He thinks of the stars on Earth and the stars on Byzantium--the one Henry sees, and wonders if this is the place they intersect.

"Tell me a story," Alex says. "You're good at telling stories.”

Henry considers him, his eyes gleaming like the Old American cent pieces, silver trinkets from a lost time.

"Very well. Once in an old kingdom far away, there lived a prince in a golden palace," Henry tells him. “He had everything--finery spun from lustrous silk, precious jewels which outshine the brightest stars, and all the books he can ask for. However, the prince learns that his grandmother, the queen, had stolen all of these precious gifts from their people. The prince was very angry. He returned his possessions to the commoners, and used the kingdom’s wealth to better their lives. The queen saw this happen, so she turns into a dragon, and traps the prince in the highest tower.”

“Then he saw the most handsome knight with warm, sparkling eyes and a chin dimple.” Alex turns away, unable to bear the intensity of Henry's gaze on him. “He challenged all the nobles who terrorized the peasants. Spurred on by the knight’s bravery, the prince disguises himself as a commoner and escapes the tower, aiding the knight to defeating his grandmother. Together, they roam the kingdom, rescuing towns from the queen's wrath. As they go on more adventures, the knight grows closer to the prince, but the prince cannot admit his love for him. He is afraid the knight will hate him for being _the_ prince."

Henry says nothing for a while.

"Wait, that’s it?" Alex says.

"Yes, you wanted a story," Henry says, irritation in his voice. "There's your story."

"I just think the prince should say his feelings." Alex shrugs. "If the knight truly loves him, he wouldn't mind where the prince came from."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, I mean the prince went through all that trouble running away from home and going against his grandmother. So it's not as if he's _for_ the queen's reign of terror."

Henry hasn't looked away from him this entire time. On the floor, their hands touch. Static crawls up Alex's arms, goosebumps breaking on his skin.

"Anyway, no offense but I don't really know why you're wasting your time writing for the Halcyon Observer." Alex meets his eyes. Henry has freckles, stardust powdering his nose. "You should be sitting in a cottage somewhere, writing freely."

Alex has a word for this now, for the strange fluttering feeling inside his chest. It looks something like the orange skies of Monarch on the arch, smells like early morning dew at a summer villa, feels as soft as smooth satin silk--a prince's finery.

He leans forward, looking into Henry's bottomless blue eyes that are so much like Earth, like _their_ blue planet from far away.

Henry kisses him first, skimming his delicate fingers on his cheek. It’s soft. Henry's lips are _soft_ , and so unlike anything in this unforgiving star system. For one single moment, one blip in the whole goddamn universe, Alex forgets about the Board, and _The Hope_ , and the dark things he's seen from Edgewater to Monarch.

Alex tests kissing back. Henry moans, and the sound liquefies his mind. They kiss and kiss for what seems like ages, maybe even light years. Alex opens his mouth and--

Henry scrambles back, muttering a curse and an apology. He picks up David, and scurries away.

The door hisses shut. Faintly, Alex brings his fingers to his mouth. "Oh."

***

**THE SPACE GA(Y)NG MESSAGE BOARD**

**Topic:** news  
 **Date:** 2355-11-11 1:00 PM (HLCST)  
 **Posted By:** nora.holleran

cracked the message...that’s good news.  
bad news is...uhm...i have to explain  
so meet at the dining hall?

 **nora.holleran  
** uhm after i take a 5h nap maybe

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Alex, I can hear you pacing from the cargo hold. Is something wrong?

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** @alex.claremontdiaz ?

 **pez.okonjo  
** @henry.fox ?  
At least post a vid of david, mate

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Is Henry in his room, too?

 **pez.okonjo  
** And I guess our illustrious captain has trapped himself inside his room  
I can't blame either of them  
It was bound to happen one way or the other.  
At least, Henry got it all  
out before we meet his family.

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** what do you mean?

 **pez.okonjo  
** Oh? You don't know?

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Don't know what?

 **pez.okonjo  
** Hmm...  
just wait and see love, :')

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Yeah, that's _truly_ helpful  
I'm just worried about Alex  
especially since Monarch.  
I don't know like this isn't the first time  
he's gotten into a shit ton of trouble.  
But I guess back then we had our parents  
to fall back to.  
Now it's just us  
All alone.  
Ugh, this is stupid.  
Sorry for this wall of text

 **nora.holleran  
** ur….not tho  
bawe  
*babe  
not stupjd  
I mean

 **pez.okonjo  
** Don't apologize for a single thing, darling.

***

So they haven't talked about the kiss.

Alex makes dinner. Henry cleans the kitchen. They don't speak or acknowledge each other's presence beyond pointing where the soapy bucket is.

Dinner comes. Henry sits on the far end beside Pez, laughing and chatting. Alex catches his gaze, and Henry looks at his plate as if the stew holds the secrets of the universe.

See, Alex isn't mad. He's learned a lot about patience in this journey, in part because of Henry.

He just wants to know _why_.

Once they have their fill, Nora pushes out of her seat with a Zero Gee can in her hand. She flicks her thumb and forefinger to the side of the can, rattling the aluminum. The table falls into silence. The only sound in the room is the cleaning robot, SAM-5000 picking up empty beer cans, slotting dishes into its wash compartment.

"As I said in the post earlier, I've cracked the code in the signal," she says with a brilliant smile. For someone who only slept for five hours in the last week, Nora looks good.

"But there's a problem and--" The SAM-5000 squeezes at the corner, grabbing Nora's datapad. 

“--wait, that’s not--” Nora pulls the datapad trapped in the SAM-5000’s iron grip. “As I was saying--let go will you--

“Activating built-in trash compactor," the cleaning robot declares.

“No, no that’s not what I meant!”

June gets up from her chair. She examines the cleaning robot, the knobs and buttons behind it's back. She flicks a switch. The SAM-5000 slumps forward, its lights off and the claws lose.

Nora takes the datapad. She winks at June, and June smiles back.

"As I was saying." She coughs, pushing her curls up. "The location in the code is really vague, like--oh I'll just show you."

Nora pulls a cord from her terminal, attaching into the slot on the data pad. A holo of a map--which looks to be some kind of district--projects from her terminal.

"That's the Hyperion district," Henry says, the muscle on his jaw twitching.

"What? Like you live there or something?" Alex says, his voice a knife's edge.

Henry presses his lips tightly. He shrinks in his seat, his knuckles starry white. Pez reaches for his hand. The look they share is unreadable.

"Anyway, uhm...what's the problem?" June asks. "It looks just like any other district."

Nora pushes a button on her terminal. Six of the blocks--the buildings--flash like the sun’s rays on a clear morning sky.

"That's the location of the formula or at least one of them is," she says, and she smacks her forehead with the heel of her palm. “Damn, if I known two weeks ago, that five of them are fake locations, then we would be on our way to _The Hope_ by now and we would have--”

"Nora,” Alex stops Nora’s needless meandering. “How do we find out where the real formula is?”

"By process of elimination--" she prattles.

"That's going to take time!"

"Exactly, but don't worry, my dear captain, I can hack into Byzantium's mainframe, and get the exact location of the formula.” Nora twists her lips. “Although, we probably should do it soon. The formula’s location will change in four days.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Henry blurts out.

Since when have they done anything legal during this entire mission?

“What Henry means is, hacking into Byzantium’s mainframe will be an arduous task,” Pez says, and his expression hardens. “You do realize that this is the central network of the entire star system? They’ll have security at every step.”

“Yeah, duh, of course I know,” Nora says, “but it’s the only choice we have unless you want to visit all six of the locations.”

Alex stares at the holo. Six golden buildings, one of them holds the true location of the dimethyl sulfoxide--the golden fleece of this mission. Henry stares at the holo too, his expression blank. Alex wishes he could read his goddamn mind; unlock every bolt and door to the crevices, and know him from the inside out--what he thinks as he looks at this holo, what he thought last night when he kissed Alex and when he ran away.

“Anyway, don’t call me for the next 12 hours.” Nora stretches her fingers as if preparing for a fight. “Gonna need that sleep cause tomorrow I’ll start hacking the mainframe.”

***

 _The Unreliable_ shifts into the morning cycle, welcoming a new day. Alex didn’t sleep much, too many thoughts buzzing in his head, too many dreams of insect monsters and death.

Today, they enter Byzantium, the heart of the Board’s debauchery. Alex has no crystal ball to see into tomorrow, but he’s beat Death more than once.

"ETA to Byzantium in 30 minutes," DIA announces. Alex laces up his boots and heads into the cockpit.

Alex sits on the captain's chair. The last time he saw Terra-2 from orbit, they were en route to _The Groundbreaker._ The planet looked serene, and still looks serene, as Earth-like as the Earth before the bombs fell.

So much has changed since he last looked at these clouds and this sea, even the chair feels different, _familiar_. Familiar like an old ratty sock he refused to throw out. Like the systems humanity refused to bury after the apocalypse and space travel.

Nostalgia is a rotten disease, making heroes out of conquerors, turning villains into saints. It's a wonder how the Earth survived.

"Alex."

He spins the chair around. Henry is there, leaning on the entryway. The warm glow inside the cockpit casts golden shadows on his face, highlighting the points of his cheekbones and the slope of his nose. Alex has seen him under this light countless times, and thought him handsome, a Greek god chiselled from marble.

"I want to uhm...speak with you about something," Henry says. Alex's head brings up images of last night, of Henry's warm mouth on his, of his soft, wet lips, how his hand felt on his cheek.

Alex wants to kiss him again, on his mouth, on his neck and all the other places Alex only dreams of in fevered fantasies, if Henry would allow him.

"Go on," Alex breathes, anchoring himself on the hard leather.

"Remember the family I told you about?" Henry says, tugging on the hem of his sleeve. "I've been in contact with them--only my sister though. If you're concerned about security, I told her nothing of the mission."

Alex cares about none of that. He only wants Henry.

"So I was wondering if I can visit her, my sister, Bea. It shouldn't take too long." Henry scratches his nape. "And I want you to come with me."

"Yes I'll come with you, whatever you need." In a few days, he'll regret this decision. At this moment, however, Halcyon can burn for all he cares so long as Henry is happy.

"I'll see you in the landing zone then." He turns to leave.

"Henry, wait!" Alex calls, but Henry has disappeared into the hallway.

He slumps back on the chair, fingers touching his lips. Questions race in his mind. None he has answers to.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features the art by teomoy. <3

_The Unreliable_ lands on Byzantium easily, with no fuss from the port authorities. Alex and Henry say goodbye to June and Pez on the docking bay. Nora hollers her goodbyes from the cockpit, typing away at the keyboard.

They take a skycar from _The Unreliable_ ' _s_ landing zone to Henry's house. The air inside the skycar is hot and thick: suffocating.

They still haven't talked about the kiss. Alex is meeting Henry's family, and they haven't talked about how Henry slipped him the tongue and ran away.

Byzantium is a city unlike anything Alex has seen before--not in Halcyon, not in the magazines featuring Earth’s opulent megacities. Sky cars whiz through the clouds. People dressed in fine garments walk on marble streets. On buildings, wide screens loop advertisements, from toothpaste to Spectrum vodka to a music holo about crushing dissenters. A man who looks a lot like Henry is featured in half of them. Henry doesn’t look. At the centre of this corporation’s wet dream of a city is a golden statue of a world, dotted with tiny stars. A ribbon wraps around the sphere-- _The City of The Stars_.

From the window, Henry’s house zips into view. Alex's heart pushes at his throat. The house--no, the _palace_ is magnificent, dazzling in a shimmer of marble and gold. The architecture is clearly modeled after the palaces of Europe, when Europe wasn’t in ruins, down to the exquisite palatial gardens.

The skycar descends. The door opens and a ramp folds out of the skycar. There’s someone waiting at the bottom of the ramp, a brown-skinned man in a grey overcoat.

“Welcome back, sir,” He nods his head at Henry. He offers a gloved hand to Alex. “And you must be, Captain Alex Claremont-Diaz. I’m Shaan, Shaan Srivastava, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, yeah, same.” Alex shakes the proffered hand stiffly.

“Shall we be off, then?" Shaan tips his wide brimmed hat.

"Is Bea home?” Henry says.

"Mistress Beatrice is currently on an excursion but she will be back tomorrow."

They walk along a cobblestone path, the scenery an obscene, resplendent gesture. Marble statues of humans with crowns--of kings and queens--surround a three-tiered fountain. The azure waters shimmer as if the fountain pours lapis lazulis. Trees line along the sidewalk, painted in gold. Alex squints. The trees are statues as well. He scoffs. What an egregious waste of money for the sake of having golden, lifeless trees.

An apologetic look crosses Henry’s face. Alex knows Henry’s rich. His father is the star of the Jett Ryder pictures, the face of Board propaganda. Arthur Fox made a shitload of money from corporate sponsorships alone.

But this blatant display of wealth is too much for a mere propaganda star. Just _who_ is Henry's family?

The golden gates of the palace swing open, controlled by automatons which trigger the command as soon as they arrive within the vicinity. A marble path leads from the gates, a bed of purple flowers on either side. They reach a luxurious double door cut from the richest oak, polished to a glossy finish. Everything about the decor is nauseating, an excessive and ostentatious show. The plaque, however, has Alex curious.

 _Windsor Manor_ is etched on the plaque, thin letters, barely distinguishable from the shining plate.

 _Windsor_. _Windsor_. He scratches his mind for the name.

Oh, it _clicks_.

Henry is the son of a Board Director. Director Catherine, most likely. Luna's files mentioned her husband passing away a few years ago--Arthur Fox. Henry's father.

The wind is sucked out of his lungs. His body goes rigid, pin needles poking at his skin. He bites back the empty laugh rolling on his tongue. How can he be so fucking stupid? It was obvious from the beginning, when Alex had asked that question about _pi_.

"What the _fuck_?" Alex snarls. If his feet aren't fused on the cobblestone pavement, Alex would have lunged at Henry.

And then what? What would he have done? Alex can't think of ever hurting him. They've been through so much.

"I can explain," Henry says, a half-sob, and that sound, the small crack in his voice cuts like a blade through Alex's gut.

“Master Philip is waiting for you.” Shaan ignores them, though his mouth has a tight smile.

Henry nods, wiping his arm across his eyes. Shaan opens the double doors. Henry goes in without so much as a glance back.

Alex watches him disappear into the atrium. He can't _move_ , feet planted on the ground like the lifeless statues in this manor. A million things run through his head, but one is louder than the rest.

"Are you coming in?" Shaan holds the door.

Alex glances at the gates. He can make a run for it. The automatons watch, their beady eyes blinking. He _can_ if he wants his body riddled with holes.

So this is the choice Henry has presented to him. Enter the valley of the beast or die running. How awful. Maybe this was his plan all along. Let Alex into the locked crevices of his heart, learn all his secrets and stories, _kiss him_. Then, when Alex least suspects, Henry lures him right into a honeyed trap--the heart of the Board.

And Alex has fallen right into it.

Alex follows Shaan into the door. If he dies today, he might as well do it inside a golden palace. Henry can cradle Alex's broken body, and see the consequences of his actions.

The first thing Alex notices about the room--the drawing room--is the family tree sewn on the brocade wall. According to the tapestry, the Windsor family on Halcyon is descended from the British Royal family. So Henry's family was also part of an oppressive system on Earth. No wonder they were so quick in spending their fortune.

The next are the ugliest chairs Alex has seen in Halcyon _and_ on Earth. They have money to craft golden tree statues, and yet they can't find cushions that aren't made from ratty curtains? Henry sits on a chair. His body is as stiff as a plank. A pink faced man leans on the entryway to another corridor. He speaks with Henry, his shoulders hunched and his hands balled. He must be Philip. Philip sees him at the door.

"You must be my brother's chauffeur," Philip says. He goes quiet for a long moment, his skin a pale white sheet.

"Something wrong?" Alex shoots up one eyebrow.

"Oh, it's just this floor and these walls and these chairs cost a fortune." Philip smiles, still pale. "More than you'll make in a lifetime."

If Henry wasn't here, and there are no bots guarding the palace, Alex would have punched Philip.

"Is he staying with us?" Philip says, acting as if Alex isn't right there. "You know I didn't file the paperwork for having a guest of such--" and he turns to Alex with a look of disdain, " _standing_."

"Yes, Philip, and I have the paperwork filed." Henry leans on his fingers, rolling his eyes.

"Good, get one of the bots to lead him to one of the guest rooms," Philip orders with a dismissive wave. "We have much to discuss about your trip to _The Groundbreaker_."

He disappears into the corridor. Henry stands up. He has a white knuckled grip on his satchel, and the same apologetic look as before. Alex is looking at him and looking and looking, but this is no sunset on the arch at Monarch.

"Was there even a travel journal?" Alex asks, every word sharpened into a knife.

The tips of his ears turning pink tells Alex all he needs to know.

***

Alex feels fucking sick. He paces and paces around the guest room, which is just as lavish as every goddamn room in this house. Someone knocks at his door. Alex tenses. He opens the door slightly.

There's a serving bot outside his room which Alex notices is the same one who led him here. The bot carries a porcelain cup of coffee.

"From Master Henry. One sugar cube, cinnamon as per his orders," the bot says.

"Uh, thanks." Alex accepts the steaming mug. The bot leaves.

He sets the coffee on the table. He tries not to think about Henry knowing how he likes his coffee, when he knows nothing about him--the _real_ him. God, he's so stupid. Why did he ever consider that Henry _isn’t_ a Board spy?

Alex drops on the bed, staring at the bronze swirls on the ceiling. His fingers come up to his lips. Would a Board spy have cradled his face delicately and kissed him?

He squeezes his eyes shut. This is all so confusing.

The coffee grows cold on the table, untouched.

There’s another rap at his door. Alex carefully opens it. Henry is outside. He looks unrecognizable in a dark blue coat, embellished with silver buttons. This, the person at the door, is the real Henry. A clamp clenches Alex's heart. He slams the door shut, slumping down. He doesn’t care if Henry is the fucking offspring of a Board Director. He _lied_ to him.

 _Please go away_ , he thinks, dropping his face in his hands. _Just please go away_.

"I have something for you,” Henry says, his voice muffled.

"Then slide it under the door." Alex slams his fist on the door. “Or don’t if it’s a fucking bomb or something.”

"Honestly, after all this time, after all the adventures we had, do you think I’d do anything to harm you?" Henry exhales, his breath coming in short gasps. "What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"The one profiteering from the Board."

“I never profit from the Board! Do you think I _care_ about this _fucking_ conglomerate?"

Alex swings the door open. "You still call this mansion, home, right?"

Henry looks gobsmacked, his hands clenched tightly.

"Anyway, why bring me here?" Alex leans on the doorframe, scowling. “Like you didn’t just bring me here as a grand revelation that you’d been lying to me this entire time.”

"I might know a way to help you find the formula," Henry whispers, chewing his bottom lip. He cuts Alex off when he opens mouth. "But I can't tell you anything right now. Since--" His eyes dart up on the ceiling. “Just trust me.”

Alex knows that look. He’s seen it at _Roseway_ and on Monarch but for an entirely different reason. Henry’s looking for traps, hidden cameras and communicators that watch their every move.

"Fine,” Alex says, "but seriously, if we were on _The Unreliable_ I'd--"

"Throw me out of the airlock. I know. I deserve it,” Henry says. He shifts on his heels. “Anyway, you’re invited to dinner, and you have to put this on.” Henry shoves garments in his hands, folded into a neat square. "It’s in 10, and Philip will faint if he’s around a _commoner’s_ clothes for too long."

"Then it's better if I keep my commoner clothes then,” Alex sneers. "Maybe, he'll pass out when I rub my filthy shoes all over the floor."

"Do I need to remind you that you're in the manor of not one, but _two_ Board Directors?" Henry hisses through his teeth.

"No need, sweetheart." Alex's smile is sweet like honey, but his words are all poison. "I can tell by all the gold ornaments."

Henry searches his face. "I'll see you at dinner then," he says finally.

The door clicks close. Alex wants to break something, but everything in his room screams an alarm for the automatons. So, he digs his fingernails into his palms, pushing half-moon craters until they draw blood.

Alex strips out of his clothes, tossing the dirty garb on the floor. He smirks, proud of his handiwork. (Somewhere in the palace, Philip must have gasped at this ingracious mishandling of _polished_ marble). He slips on the finery--a red vest over a silk dress shirt, slacks and polished shoes.

He catches his reflection on the mirror. He looks just like _him_ , the boy from The Commonwealth, who--as Alex takes this all in--lived in a manor just as resplendent as this one. He wonders if Henry ever climbed parapets, and watched people lay tiles and put up walls.

But the Windsor Manor is a _complete_ effigy of the Board's debauchery. The White House has never been finished, and Alex is certain, the current president sitting on its throne hasn't finished the house either. It's a strange representation of the Not United States; different entities working to be _the_ United States of America but never becoming the _United_ States.

A knock on his door. Shaan tells him it's time for dinner.

Alex follows Shaan to what must be the most opulent room in this whole house with a fucking five tiered chandelier glittering like the stars. Philip sits at the far end of the table, beside a plain blonde woman who he assumes to be his wife. Henry is seated close to the door.

He gestures Alex to sit beside him. Alex does. What choice does he have? Henry has him trapped inside this--this golden monstrosity.

There are four empty seats on the dining table, one must be for Bea. Two are for Director Catherine and Director Mary, who aren't present for dinner.

Serving bots roll out, carrying silver trays. They are laden with plump roasts over golden potatoes, bread rolls and golden blocks of butter, fresh vegetables on porcelain plates. This whole spread is obscene and Alex feels a sharp pang of guilt in his belly by just looking at the food.

They eat in relative silence. Philip occasionally tells stories about his day at the HHC Office, about filing paperwork and building the economy. He laughs, and his wife shares the same jovial laugh. It's sickening. Henry pokes the baby carrots on his plate. He hasn't touched anything but the wine.

"I was right about sending you to _The Groundbreaker_." Philip pats a napkin on his wine stained lips. "The few weeks you spent with Kingsley were more useful than the four years you spent studying books."

He laughs. Henry shrinks on his seat, the fork shaking on his tight grip.

"It wasn't just studying _books_ , it was the reclamation of literature, of the arts,” Henry says.

“And what would the arts do for Halcyon’s economy, hmm?” Philip says. He swallows down a piece of steak. “You’ll be taking over mother’s position in the HHC in a few years. It’s time for you to take some responsibility.”

Henry visibly squirms in his seat. After all this time, after all the lies, Alex still wants to fight for this man. He’ll set a blaze to this palace, watch the splendor dissolve into ashes if he can give Henry a peace of mind.

Alex pushes out of his chair, squaring his shoulders.

“Alex, don’t,” Henry pleads, tugging his sleeve. Alex ignores him.

“At least he’s doing something more productive than just writing reports on how the economy is doing well by reading off a bunch of fucking lines,” he says hotly, his jaw tight.

“Oh, so now your _chauffeur_ speaks out of turn,” Philip remarks.

"Do you know how much was lost after the bombs fell?" Alex continues. "Centuries later, we're still trying to reclaim our stories, and all you care about is how many resources you can suck out of the poor."

Henry's eyes on him are brilliant, brighter than the fucking chandelier.

Philip considers him, his lips drawn into a thin line. He sips his wine.

“Seriously Henry, do I need to show you how to conduct etiquette training for your retainers?” Philip says.

And Henry snaps.

"He’s not my chauffeur or my retainer, he’s my _friend_ ,” Henry says, pushing up from his seat. “And don’t fucking lecture me on etiquette training when you kicked out half of your staff after one week.”

“Those idiots couldn’t tell the difference between polish and varnish,” Philip scoffs. “Ruined my best shoes.”

“And that’s enough for you to kick them to the gutters? Replace them all with bots?” Philip opens his mouth to argue, but Henry’s wry laugh stops him. “Maybe, _we_ , and this palace, and this whole goddamn city are the reason why Halcyon is rotten. We prattle about how prosperity awaits us in the stars but for who, exactly? _Whose_ prosperity?”

“Are you finished?” Philip says after a long moment of silence. He tosses his napkin at the table, blotched with violet lip marks. The whipcord muscle on Henry’s jaw twitches. He doesn’t sit down.

“I’m quite finished with dinner,” Philip tells his wife, and they both get up to leave. He furrows his brows at Henry. “Our grandmother will hear about this.”

Serving bots rush to Philip and his wife’s plates, slotting the porcelain in their dish compartments. Henry quietly sits down. They finish their meals without a sound.

***

There are sentry bots outside Alex’s room and he knows they are going to fucking kill him. Philip will give the order. Alex started that shitshow during dinner. His finger is probably hovering at the button, right now. In the middle of the night, while Alex rests soundly on his bed, they’ll fire a single bullet through the keyhole.

The door to his room squeaks open. Alex grabs his pistol, pointing it at his door. The intruder pushes in. Alex breath hitches, his finger quivering on the trigger.

“Stay the fuck right there or--or--” Henry freezes on the spot, his eyes wide like a startled rabbit.

Great, just fucking great.

“Just tell me why you're here," Alex sighs, carefully lowering his pistol.

"I wanted to talk, explain myself, the whole truth,” Henry says.

Alex sets the pistol on the floor and crosses his arms. “Okay, then, explain,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I was being honest on _The Groundbreaker_ when I said I wanted to help,” Henry starts, his words rushing out of his mouth, “I knew what was happening on Halcyon, and I wanted to make it a better place for everyone.”

“But you lied about everything else!” Alex snarls.

“Not everything.” Henry moves to sit at his bed, and Alex pulls his legs up. “The things I told you on _The Unreliable_ , on Monarch, in your quarters, they were real.”

“Then why keep lying? Why keep up the charade?” Alex asks. _Even after you kissed me_ , he wants to say, but his lungs struggle to give it air.

“I liked the way you looked at me,” Henry meets his gaze, and it’s so intense, like a star going supernova, and Alex can’t look away. “Like I was important not in the ways Halcyon saw me, but because I was important to _you_. And I was afraid that would change if you knew the truth about who I was, who my family is. Clearly It did,” Henry breathes, his body racked with shivers, “and it was the worst thing I could have done to someone I loved.”

Alex is stunned. He can’t move, can’t think, can’t _breathe._ His body is stripped down to his core, flung into the black hole at the centre of the Milky Way. But there, at the eye of the black hole is a single, crystal clear point, a line on the sand with Henry on the other side. Henry _loved_ him.

He thinks of every reason why he came to Halcyon. They’re all screaming: _Henry_.

“Please say something,” Henry says, tears welling in his eyes. “Anything.”

Alex kisses him then, throwing his arms around his shoulders. His throat, once parched, feels full--soaking in the taste of Henry’s lips, his long fingers pushing into his hair, and his body heat searing into every line of muscle and bone, into the core of him.

“I’m still mad at you for lying to me,” Alex says after they break. Henry purses his lips. He smiles “But you’re forgiven.”

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss. The slow and meandering kinds of kisses that go on for hours, days, and maybe seventy years. After, Henry traces meaningless patterns on his back. Alex looks at him and thinks he found the North Star.

“I never liked being here,” Henry says. “Too many closed walls and gilded cages, and lavish tea parties while everyone else suffers.”

“Is that why you ran away to my ship?” Alex rubs his nose on Henry’s. He blinks after, scrunching his face. It’s cute.

“That’s part of it,” he says with a smile that lights up a whole damn galaxy. He squeezes Alex’s shoulder. “The captain’s arse in those trousers is another reason.”

"Wait." Alex sits up quickly, he almost hits Henry's chin. "You _liked_ me since then?"

"Yes, when you asked me that dreadful question about pie," he says, and his hand comes up to pinch his ear.

Alex swats his hand away, smiling. "It wasn't a dreadful question! And it's not pie, it's _pi_."

“Well, that’s a matter of semantics,” he says, coming up on his haunches. He hooks his finger under Alex’s chin, meeting his mouth. Alex sinks into the kiss, wishing it’ll never end.

***

Alex squeezes through the window, gingerly lifting his scarred leg over the ledge. The opening is tiny, made to fit serving bots taking out kitchen garbage not a human. Which is why this is the perfect getaway for their midnight escape. No one comes through this window beside the serving bots.

“Need help?” Henry asks. He’s changed out of his finery, preferring his adventuring clothes--the ones he wears on the ship--for this rendezvous.

“Uhm? Yeah,” Alex replies. “Kinda hard to squeeze through this when my leg feels like it’s on fire.”

Henry holds his waist, hoisting him forward.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Alex stands on the balls of his feet, planting a kiss on Henry’s cheek. A flush of pink blooms on Henry’s cheeks, spreading up to his ears. Alex skips away then, as if he is the one who knows where this rendezvous leads.

They walk along a promenade which is surrounded by a river on either side. Waves gently push on the edge, spilling water on the wooden planks. Byzantium’s lights glitter like the stars above the city, flooding the cobblestone paths in a hazy yellow streak. They don’t see anyone on this road, not a human nor a bot. Alex slips his hand inside Henry’s. They continue their stroll, hand in hand. Alex imagines an _after_ , after this mission, and walking with Henry on this promenade every night.

Henry leads them to a nondescript building shaped like a cylinder with a dome. Alex follows him. Inside the building is just as unremarkable, with plain cushions packed on the walls and the floor. The wall stretches for miles, reaching up into Byzantium’s sky.

“I used to come here every night to relax, and let go,” Henry says.

"It's soft." Alex pushes his foot on a cushion. "And bouncy?"

Henry laughs, and turns a knob on the wall, Zero-Grav.

Alex feels as light as a feather, literally. He floats. He's fucking floating, flying straight up. _Shit_. He wiggles his arms, trying to keep his body vertical but all it does is turn his body so he is on his stomach. Then he makes the dumbest mistake of looking down. Alex's heart jumps in his belly. They're really, _really_ high up. _Shit._ He throws himself at Henry, wrapping his arms over his shoulder and his legs around Henry's waist. The force knocks them both to a wall. Alex squeezes his eyes shut.

"Much as I enjoy you clinging onto me like a damsel," Henry says, "I do have one more surprise. It'd be best if you look up, love."

He wraps his arms tighter. "Promise you won't let go?"

"I promise." Henry squeezes his arm. "Always."

Alex looks up. The dome has transformed from Byzantium’s inky star-filled sky to a midnight blue, clear except for a shining crescent. The Moon. _Their_ moon. Alex’s heart is at his throat. This is Earth. Before the bombs fell Earth. The one in the picture books he devoured as a child; free of irradiated sky and soil, and an air so thick with dust particles, his lungs struggled to breath.

 _Oh_.

Cicadas hiss. Shadowy trees sway on the walls, as if dancing with the breeze. The bottom half of the walls is all blue like water, like a lake. There are shadows of marine life, of fishes and dolphins Alex would have never seen in a lake, much less in Earth’s dead waters.

"I know this isn't exactly the Earth you grew up with," Henry says, "and it's from a Board propaganda--"

“This is... it’s perfect.” Alex smiles, in spite of tears.

Henry smiles too. He pushes them off the wall so they're floating in the middle of the chamber where the stars dance with shadowy leaves. It's beautiful and everything he has ever wanted since he woke up from 70 years of cryo. Since _forever_.

Alex kisses Henry, and turns them on the spot. They hold each other, and float. Just float.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this chapter will reveal why I almost failed 1st year physics, ran away from any sort of physics class for my engineering degree, and went on to pick the one with 20 comp sci classes. This is totally inaccurate to any sort of thermodynamics and physics, all because I want these two to bang in zero grav.
> 
> Special shout out to my friend Maika from the [RWRB: A Gray Area](https://discord.gg/) discord server, whose dad works for NASA. I don't know if you actually went to your dad and asked for NASA's secret boner documents, but if you did, I applaud you. Finally, we got research in case we ever wanna like have sex with ~~hot aliens~~ people in space.
> 
> Also I have to shout out my roots. Pelessaria B'Sayle, I never did your romance in Mass Effect: Andromeda (2017) because I was in the hots for turian ladies and smuggler bad boys but when you asked Ryder to fuck in zero g, that seed was planted in my head.

Henry has this idea of having sex in zero gravity.

Alex finds the idea hot, exhilarating.

So he pulls Henry by his collar, leans forward until his mouth is an inch away from Henry’s lips, and groans a resounding _yes_.

Alex unbuttons Henry's shirt with hurried fingers. The fabric slithers away easily, and falls down--well, no, _floats_. Alex sucks a bruise on Henry’s neck. Alex watches through lidded eyes as Henry’s lips part, a pinched breath escaping. Just then, Alex sees Henry’s shirt floating by, as if pulled by a ghost. A mesmerizing sight. Alex can't stop the onslaught of laughter bubbling inside his throat.

"What's so funny?" Henry asks, his reddened cheeks slashed by an impish grin which Alex finds irresistible, so he kisses him.

“Nothing,” Alex says, giggling on his lips.

Alex finds the zipper of his slacks, the metal hissing as he tugs it. Alex gets Henry’s pants halfway down his knees when Henry flips, turning on his back. He knocks his head on Alex’s cheek. Henry apologises profusely. He kicks his pants off, removing the rest of his clothes with no more acrobatic tricks.

Okay, so maybe this idea was stupid, but when is Alex _not_ known for being down with stupid, ridiculous ideas?

Alex rubs his sore cheek. Hey, at least Henry is naked now. _Good_ , _god_ , he is breathtaking, suspended in air, like a deity descending from the heavens; all lean muscles and long, powerful legs. Alex licks his lips. He wants to trace the sinewy lines with his tongue, wants to run his hands along the hard planes. His eye catches the patch of hair trailing from Henry’s stomach down to his flushed cock, where a bead of precum pools at the tip.

The sight of Henry hard and leaking--of Henry wanting him, and wanting to have sex in zero g--sends a shock of current through his skin, flooding heat into his veins.

Then Henry has him, trapping him against the wall, strong hands on his waist. Alex lets out a guttural noise, which Henry catches with his mouth. He strips Alex, discarding his clothes, adding them to the whirlpool of floating garments.

They drift away from the wall, just kissing, just touching, letting their hands explore the hard points, the whipcord muscles, and expanse of skin.

“Are you sure about this?” Henry asks as if they aren’t floating naked, as if their socks aren’t orbiting around them like planets to binary stars.

Alex kisses him fiercely, tasting iron. He grinds their hips. The noise that comes out of Henry's mouth is obscene, going right into his groin.

“Yes, _sweetheart,_ ” Alex growls, drawing out the syllables. Henry snakes a hand around his waist, lightly slapping Alex’s ass. He yelps.

"Someone's desperate." Henry tugs Alex’s lips between his teeth

“Well, _some_ of us haven’t had sex in 70 years,.” Alex grunts. “So can you get on with it?”

Henry pushes his hand through Alex’s curls, and pulls at the root. Henry hums into his neck, the vibrations rolling throughout his body, settling in Alex’s core. He licks a swipe along the column of Alex’s throat, pressing hot kisses on his jaw. His lips hover over Alex’s mouth.

“Well, you could have said something sooner,” Henry murmurs, hot breath tickling his lips. He kisses him deeply.

Henry brings his hand to his mouth and spits. The spit doesn’t land his hand, though. Instead, the liquid forms into a ball, drifting away like a balloon. Henry flashes up. He catches the spit between his palms. A clap. Beady droplets spray from the impact.

This is all so weird, and strange, and yet heat pools inside Alex’s belly, spreading through his groin. His cock is heavy and hard, and aching with want. After nearly 70 years of foreplay, and spit blobs, Henry _finally_ touches him. His firm grip is exquisite, smearing precome all over Alex’s cock. The slick eases the slide of fingers, pleasure building inside his balls.

" _Fuck_ ," Alex moans, feathery and light. He thrusts up, seeking more friction--more of Henry. Henry squeezes his cock as he bucks his hips, groaning into his ear as if _he’s_ the one getting jerked off to the Andromeda galaxy.

They settle into a sensual, frantic rhythm. Alex digs crescent marks on Henry’s back, as his pleasure climbs higher and higher, reaching his apex--his _aphelion_. Heat coils around his lower back, his balls tightening. His mind goes blank, the liminal point before a star collapses into a black hole.

Alex comes in spurts. His spent collects as a blob at the tip of his cock. Henry peppers searing, open-mouthed kisses on the side of his neck, coaxing him through his orgasm.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” he says, laughing at the absurdity of his cum sitting on his cock. His spherical blob of cum--cum blob?--floats off, rising into the heavens as if chosen by God. The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Alex drapes onto Henry's body, loose limbed and drained. He feels weightless even in zero gravity, a miniscule photon on a wave of light. Henry squeezes him into his chest. They drift, moving through the orbit of clothes until they hit a wall.

“If I’d known sex would shut you up, then we would have done it sooner,” Henry says, planting a small kiss on his sweaty temple.

"Fuck you,” Alex exhales.

"I just did.” Henry grins. Alex rolls his eyes, but he brings their mouths together, pressing Henry against the wall. A shot of adrenaline runs through his veins.

“My turn now,” he says, placing both of his hands on Henry’s naked chest.

It’s a lot of work, a lot of maneuvering. Eventually, Alex gets Henry to float on his back. He swims between his legs.

“I haven’t sucked a dick in 70 years, just so you know.” He also hasn’t sucked cock while flying.

"You don't have to do it." Henry dips his chin.

"I'm just warning you in case this is like, the worst blow job you'll ever receive," Alex says, lazily stroking Henry’s cock.

"Very well, then,” Henry says, grazing his fingers along Alex’s cheek. "Carry on."

Alex swirls his tongue around the tip, wrapping his lips around the head and sucks. Henry whimpers. He pushes up Alex’s sweaty curls away from his forehead; a feathery _“More”_ escaping his lips. Alex obliges, bobbing his head up and down his shaft. He meets Henry’s heated gaze, and _oh god_ ; his pupils are blown wide, pushing his irises into blue slits, a pink flush spreads from his cheeks to his ears, and his reddened lips are parted. Alex wants Henry’s face etched behind his eyelids forever.

Henry’s grip on his hair tightens, and he bucks his hips up. Alex whimpers, and he releases Henry’s cock.

“What? Why did you stop?” Henry whines. Alex curls his fingers around Henry’s shaft, pumping his cock, and Henry's words dissolve into a moan.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Alex coaxes, watching as Henry’s face turns into a pleasured grimace. He takes one of Henry’s balls in his mouth, sucking in time with his strokes.

Henry’s entire body grows taut, then he comes, shooting up into a blob. Alex kisses him, stroking his cock through his climax. Henry’s cum blob floats alongside his before merging at the apex. A truly mesmerizing sight, the most beautiful scene in this entire star system--in the whole damn universe.

They float, clinging onto each other. Alex buries his nose on Henry’s shoulder, inhaling the clean scent of him mixed with sex and sweat.

"So," Henry starts, his lip just above Alex's temple. "How was it?"

"Weird,” Alex mumbles, dazed. “But a good kind of weird.”

When Alex pulls back, Henry’s eyes are sparkling.

***

After their midnight rendezvous, they return to Alex’s quarters. They kiss, taking off their clothes, and cuddle on the bed. Alex talks about his time on Earth. It feels like he’s told Henry these stories before, but this time, he tells them with the complete knowledge that Henry grew up in a gilded home, just as Alex did, and wanted a better place--a better _home_ just as he did.

When the sun leaves a yellow streak in the inky sky, Alex closes his eyes. He listens to Henry’s heartbeat as he drifts to sleep.

***

A slant of light shimmers into the room, bathing Henry in a soft, sunny glow. Alex touches his jaw, his cheekbones, letting his hands explore the curve of his neck. It’s heaven, seeing Henry in this moment of respite.

He opens his eyes, and it's the most beautiful sight Alex has ever seen. (Next to the ethereal cum blob, of course.)

"Hi," Alex says; his cheeks ache from smiling too much.

"Morning, _love_ ," Henry says, and Alex’s heart flutters at the nickname. Alex catches Henry's lips in a slow, languid kiss that's a tad bit funky from the morning breath. He pushes Henry on his back, straddling his hips.

"I better go back to my room before a bot sequesters me from your boudoir," Henry says.

"Five more minutes," Alex mumbles, kissing Henry softly again. The kiss soon heats up as Alex rocks his hips, dragging his ass along Henry's hardening cock.

"You are insatiable." Henry lets out a choked groan, bucking his hips.

"You love it." Alex grins, before sinking into the warmth of Henry's embrace.

They don't get up for another half-hour.

After they shower and dress, Henry takes Alex into the guest kitchen. They prepare their hot drinks for the morning, making out against the counter while the Earl Grey steeps and the coffee brews. Henry sets up two plates of toast with slabs of butter, and purple berry jam, which was picked from the palatial gardens and made in the manor’s bakery by the serving bots.

“So this isn’t real bread? I mean it’s made by a robot,” Alex says, holding up the toast as if it were poisoned.

“Of course it is, you arse! Does this feel like real bread to you?” Henry flicks a breadcrumb at his cheek, laughing. Alex pouts. Henry kisses him. This is so painfully domestic, Alex could cry.

After breakfast--or lunch more like--Henry leads him up an impressive set of stairs, into what Henry calls the solarium. The structures in this place are more subdued compared to the palace, trading the glittering ornaments for simple windowless panels, marble statues for lush, flowering shrubs. Byzantium's sky has turned overcast; hazy clouds hang over them like a canopy.

"This is my favourite place in the manor," Henry says, his smile genuine. He leans his back against the fencing, throwing his head up at the murky sky. “I could stay here, reading and writing all day, and feel like not a second has passed.”

They stand there, enjoying the silence. Henry pushes a button on his terminal. A soft ballad plays on the speakers. Alex recognizes the lyrics: _“It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside…”_ but he can’t put a name to it--another lost artifact at the end of civilization.

Henry offers his hand.

“Are you going to ask me for waltz, Your Highness?” Alex smirks, taking his hand.

“Never cared for waltzing,” Henry says as he pulls him in, turning on the spot.

Soon, there are no words, no other sounds but song and the low thudding of their hearts.

***

It starts to rain, and they retreat to Henry’s room. They lie hand in hand on the carpet, staring at the patterned swirls on the ceiling. Henry points out that the constellations etched at the middle represent the constellations on Earth’s sky. He points out the dippers, the three stars forming Orion’s belt, and Pollux and Castor. They’re the easiest constellations to find in the night sky, Henry explains. Alex has never seen them on Earth. Then he points out the less recognizable ones like Cetus, the whale, swimming below Pisces’ twin fishes, Andromeda--the Milky Way’s neighbouring galaxy, and Arcturus’ fiery star.

The map of constellations is the only thing Henry asked for in this room.

"There's something else I don't get," Alex says after a while, his eyes focusing on blue Sirius in Canis Major as Henry points out.

"Hmm?" Henry squeezes his hand.

"If there was no travel journal, what were you always writing about?" Alex releases his hand, sitting on his haunches.

"Oh, but there was.” Henry grins, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

"But you're not actually a journalist for the Halcyon Observer. Or are you?”

"I did send some columns, yes."

“That’s not a journalist!” Alex smacks his shoulder. “That’s like saying you’re a scientist cause you participated as a test subject!”

“Well, I _did_ write a travel journal.” Henry gets up on his knees. He kisses Alex, slow and deep. Any complaints Alex might have dissolve as he melts into Henry’s touch. “To your mouth.” Henry licks his neck. Alex breath hitches. “To your skin, and to your arse.” He squeezes Alex’s ass, pushing him back on the floor.

The afternoon passes in a blur of wet mouths, soft breathy gasps, and desperate heated fingers seeking pleasure; seeking each other. They lay on the plush carpet as their skin cools, and their hearts slow. Lost in the comfort of Henry’s arms, Alex forgets about the formula, the thousands of sleepers on _The Hope_ , and this entire goddamn star system. Alex wants to stay in here, trapped in Henry's limbs, forever.

A soft knock comes from Henry’s room. They put their clothes on quickly. Once they’re decent, Henry opens the door.

It's Shaan.

"It's for him," Shaan says, looking at Alex.

Flummoxed, Alex pads to the door. Shaan hands him a datapad. In thin orange letterings, the datapad says.

_They’re moving the formula tonight, dumbass. -ZB_


	12. Chapter 12

**THE SPACE GA(Y)NG MESSAGE BOARD**

**Topic** : the fucking formula’s moving tonight  
 **Date** : 2355-11-13 5:00 PM (BYZST)  
 **Posted By:** henry.fox

meet at the hyperion district in like 5

 **nora.holleran  
** oh shit!  
im still hacking into the mainframe

 **henry.fox  
** yeah, i got the message from zahra  
which...  
wait, how did she know?  
the last thing i sent her was about  
the coded message in the signal  
and luna’s files

 **nora.holleran  
** also i just noticed this right now  
but when did henry start talking like  
one of those trolls in the forums

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** Alex and I might have erm...switched terminals  
while getting dressed

 **pez.okonjo  
** I’m guessing someone had an eventful night. ;)

 **henry.fox  
** that’s not the point right now!!  
how did zahra know about the formula

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Because Pez and I told her  
when she called last night.  
We basically told her about the decoded message  
and that the location changes.  
So I guess she had someone look into it?  
She’s really pissed off at you btw  
for leaving her on hold

 **henry.fox  
** i didn’t leave her on hold!

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** I was floating on my back in the zero grav chamber  
and then he pushes my legs open...

 **pez.okonjo  
** Haz, wrong chat.

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** How do I access david’s account on this thing?  
I saved some vids to deflect from  
this rather erm... _interesting_ predicament

 **pez.okonjo  
** Interesting alright ;)

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** You  
And  
Henry  
Had Sex??  
Oh my god.

 **nora.holleran  
** you had sex in a zero grav chamber????  
(also btw babe you gotta pay up  
could either be in bits or something else ;))

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** We can discuss the payment tonight? ;)

 **pez.okonjo  
** I’d _love_ to be at the negotiation table ;)

 **henry.fox  
** jesus christ can we _please_ talk about _a_ plan?  
and like how to find where  
the fucking formula it is??

 **nora.holleran  
** how do you like, have sex in zero g anyway?  
don't you just like, spin around?

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** Yes, that was part of it.  
I accidentally hit Alex while  
he was taking my clothes off.

 **henry.fox  
** ugggghhhhh

**alex.claremontdiaz** starts messaging **nora.holleran** , **juneclaremont diaz  
** at 2355-11-13 5:15 PM (BYZST)

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** okay u guys wouldn’t believe this  
henry’s like the kid of a board director  
but he’s cool  
you know he wants to upend the board  
which does includes his mom and grandma

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Oh yeah, I know

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** did he tell you or something?

 **nora.holleran  
** i mean i figured it out  
back on the groundbreaker  
when we met him

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** How????  
I was there and i only found like 2 days ago

 **nora.holleran  
** wait  
you didn’t know?  
you were the one who  
asked the question.

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** you mean the question about pi???

 **nora.holleran  
** yeah  
like…  
no one would know the price of fucking _pie  
_ of the Board corporations  
unless they’re directly affiliated  
with a Board member just like Henry  
who happens to be the kid of a Director

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** okay i didn’t know that!!  
also the pi question was maybe stupid

 **nora.holleran  
** tbf  
i had an advantage knowing  
blue eyes and pointed noses  
are windsor traits  
and arthur fox married a windsor  
So put 2 + 2 together and…

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** but you still let me hire him?

 **nora.holleran  
** cause he’s not suspicious!!  
and pretty genuine in his convictions  
which yes, happens to align exactly with ours  
i thought you were supposed to be a lawyer!!  
don’t you like, read these things?

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** He was a lawyer in training.  
Also his observational skills  
often decrease with a person  
he finds utterly attractive ;)

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** How did _june_ figure it out?

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Just a hunch I guess  
and like, Zahra gave me a lecture  
on all the Board Directors.  
Henry looked related to Catherine

 **nora.holleran  
** also she might have convinced me  
to tell her with her wiley wiley ways ;)  
 ~~with her mouth~~

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** We still have to discuss payment, babe. ;)

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** wait you two are  
hold on

> _So put 2 + 2 together and…  
> _ @nora.holleran

**nora.holleran  
** and pez technically  
so it’s more like 2 * 3

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** what??  
 _pez_

 **june.claremontdiaz  
** Seriously, do I n _eed_ to spell out  
Everything for you??

 **nora.holleran  
** see, you and henry  
weren’t the only ones who  
had an eventful night.

***

Alex waves June, Nora and Pez to their hidden alleyway at the Hyperion District. The sun has drawn a hazy streak below the clouds. People have started walking out of the office prefabs, heading into bars or stores for their nightly activities. They only have a few hours left before the formula moves.

“Did you figure out the location?” June asks, catching her breath.

“No,” Alex says. He nudges Henry. “But this one has a plan.”

“Well, that involved sleuthing through my mother’s office after dinner tonight, while my sister distracted the bots and Philip with a song and dance,” Henry says, scratching his neck. Alex blinks, and the rest have blank expressions.

“I thought the formula wasn’t moving at least until tomorrow night!” Henry argues.

“Should we go for plan B then? Search through every single one of the glowing prefabs?” Pez asks.

“They’re moving the formula tonight!” Alex slams his curled fists into his palm.

“And we would have to grab a new signal from the satellites,” Nora adds.

“Maybe, there’s a way we could narrow down the locations?” June ponders, looking at the sky.

“That’ll be difficult and we don’t have enough time!”

Henry moves away from the conversation, and peeks into the alleyway.

“Maybe we can’t get into my mother’s office tonight but we can possibly get the information from another office,” Henry says with a grin. His eyes are twinkling with the plan forming in his head. Alex follows his line of sight, to the grand building occupying the central square.

***

Of course the Halcyon Holdings Corporation’s main office must look beautiful: a shining beacon of Halcyon's prosperity. The intricate patterned swirls on the ceiling are probably magnificent, and the chandeliers too. Alex wouldn’t know, as he enters it inside a laundry cart, his knees curled up to his chest, suffocated by laundry bags. June sits across in the sliver of space the cart offers. Her face contours into disgust. She's having as much fun confined in this trolley as he is.

The HHC Office Building doubles as a residential area for certain employees. ("The people who live and breath inside the offices," Henry tells him). There's a lone laundry cart behind the building which contains clothes stuffed in bags. They roll the cart towards the front of the office building, and a plan starts to form in Alex's head.

The goal is--as Henry suggested--grab the location of the formula from Chief Director Jeffrey Richards' office. A daunting task surely, trespassing through the Chief Director’s belongings, but they’ve got a plan and they’ve even got diagrams..

Step one. Distract every important person on the main floor--be it the reception desk, the guard or the cleaning robots--ensure no one is watching the elevator. Henry and Pez's footsteps disappear into a different corridor. Distantly, he hears Pez voice a dramatic complaint at the front desk.

Step two. Find an empty corridor where Alex, Nora and June can change. The cart skids, and turns, rolling along smooth tiles. It stops.

"Okay, all clear," Nora says after a moment.

Alex and June hop out of the cart. The area they're in is a small junction next to the bathroom. Alex can hear the commotion at the front desk. Henry and Pez are close by.

They rummage through the cart, finding a pair of suits and slacks for two people. The rest of the garments are underwear and undershirts.

"Maybe, you can make a fashion statement out of this, " Nora suggests, pulling out an undershirt. Alex makes a disgusted noise.

Just then, a man dressed in a fine velvet suit pushes out of the washroom.

"I have an idea," Alex says. He creeps up behind him, pistol in hand. Just before the man walks out of the corridor, Alex whacks his head with the butt of the pistol.

The man moans, collapsing onto the ground like a rag doll.

“Shit! Is he okay?” Alex jumps back, heart pinching as if this isn't the first time he's seen a body passed out.

June presses two fingers on his neck. “He’s alive.”

Alex strips the man down to his underwear, and hides him in the laundry cart. Alex grabs the man's clothes, rushing into the washroom. He slams the stall door shut, strips out of his clothes and stuffs them in his pack. June and Nora are outside in their disguises when Alex finishes.

“I look ridiculous,” Alex says, tugging the tight collar. He adjusts the glasses, checking on the terminal's vid screen.

"You look like one dashing corporate mogul." June giggles, imitating a Byzantiumian?-- _Byzantian_ , it's a fucking _British_ \--accent.

"...caused our dearest planet so much pain and suffering, how can you be so heartless?" Alex hears Pez sob. He peeks into the corridor. Pez is lying in Henry's arms, while Henry kneels on one knee. It's a caricature of the holy scenes Alex read in the Old World history books--the _La Pieta_.

All the guards have piled around the reception desk, which means there's noone guarding the elevator. They quickly move behind the reception area, and the unfolding scene. Henry meets his gaze. He winks.

"My mother shall hear about this!" Henry hisses in feigned anger. He rubs his eyes, and tears start leaking. “All of you! You shall pay for your heinous crimes!”

Alex bites down a laugh.

They slip into the elevator without a hitch. Alex slams a knuckle on the close button.

"So top floor, right?" Alex says.

"Yep," Nora answers.

He presses 30. The elevator moves, rolling up the shaft as smooth as glass. Music plays inside the elevator which is pleasant and soothing unlike the annoying jingle in the elevator back at the saltuna factory in Edgewater. The song does nothing to calm the nerves crawling on his skin, however.

The elevator dings, opening to an exquisite antechamber with an elaborate reception desk. Two eggshell banners hang on the wall, the Board's insignia in glittering gold.

Step Three. Get into Richards' office. A woman types away behind the desk.

Alex checks his ID. Hunter MacIntyre.

“Uhh...hello, my name is Hunter MacIntyre, and I have erm...an appointment with the Chief Director.” He approaches the desk with a toothy smile, and a truly authentic British-- _Byzantian_ accent.

"The Chief Director has gone home for the night," the woman says without looking from her terminal.

 _Good_ , Alex thinks. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Nora and June trying to unlock Richards' office.

"So why are you still here--" he catches her name on the ID hanging from her neck "--Cherry?"

"Reorganizing Richards’ files. You know the big move is tonight," Cherry says.

“What big move?” She’s talking about the formula, Alex knows it.

Cherry finally looks up. She blinks, lowering her square glasses as she examines him--the supposed Hunter MacIntyre. His muscles clench, from the tiny ones under his eyes down to his round muscles of his ass.

"They're transferring Director Catherine's files to the Chief Director's office," she says. The clamp squeezing his heart loosens, and then, his heart drops. Cherry's not lying, Alex observes. Maybe, she doesn't know where the formula is.

“Say Hunter, did you go to Madame Jellicour’s to get your complexion changed?” she asks after a long awkward pause. “Not that I have a problem with it. It suits you.”

He catches Nora opening Richards' office in his peripheral vision.

"Go home Cherry," he says.

"What?" Her pupils shrink. "But I still have to clean-up his junk mail, which by the way, there's _a lot_. People just don't know how to make proper requests."

"I can take care of it. Don't worry."

Cherry hesitates. "Alright, thank you Hunter," she says eventually with a sweet smile, and she packs her things.

Just then, an alarm beeps from inside Richards' office.

"What was that?" Cherry frowns.

"Uhm…must be the rats you know." He shifts his eyes to the office's door. Nora and June aren't there. They must be inside.

"File an extermination request to the maintenance crew," she says, her nose twisting in disgust. She skitters towards the elevator.

Alex waits until Cherry is a few floors down before he heads inside Richard's office. The Chief Director's room is as resplendent as he expected. A mahogany desk sits in the middle by an ornate side table with a golden diorama of what looks like the Halcyon star system. The most curious feature of this room, from the insignia from the floor, and the panelled windows, is that it’s modeled after the Oval Office in the White House.

Nora sits behind the desk on Richards’ leather chair. June watches over her shoulder.

"Did you find the location?" Alex says. He gently closes the door, preventing any unwanted alarms.

"It's downstairs," Nora says.

"Which building?"

“Downstairs,” she repeats, enunciating. “Like, in the basement downstairs.”

“I mean it’s written on a sticky note at his desk.” June pinches a note between her fingers. Alex takes it from her, and in blue blocky script, the mustard note says:

 _@7:30 PM_  
 _HHC Offices - Basement to Byzantium Port  
_ _En route the asteroid, Scylla._

_Someone’s been sniffing around. -CD_

“They’re shipping it off-world?” Alex says, appalled. He has a lot to be appalled about this whole ordeal, starting with the formula has been under their noses the entire time (literally), and ending with _Chief Director Jeffrey Richards_ of the Halcyon Holdings Corporations wrote the fucking order, location and _time_ of transfer of the formula on a sticky note, _at his desk_.

But yes, they’re moving it off-world. That’s the least appalling _thing_ about this. Alex checks the time. 6:30 PM. They’ve got an hour.

“Hey, you’ve gotta check this out.” Nora waves.

“Seriously, we’ve got an hour to get the formula,” Alex says, but he goes behind the terminal regardless.

“It’s important, like probably the reason why they’re hoarding so much dimethyl sulfoxide,” she says, and presses play on the vid. Jeffrey Richards wrinkly face appears on the screen. He speaks while bombastic, triumphant music plays.

_Good afternoon, this is Chief Director Richards, and I’m here to address a very serious concern. Thanks to you, our wonderful workers, Halcyon has been successful beyond our wildest dreams. Unfortunately, we’ve recently discovered that our food supply will not be able to sustain Halcyon in the long run. Everyone will die, no I mean--cut that--everyone will slowly stop living from malnutrition._

The clip cuts. _“Look, you idiots how many times do I have to tell you that we can’t say shit like that,”_ Richard snarls at someone offscreen. _“I swear to god, if no one gives me something to read that would placate the masses, all of you will be violently_ unemployed!”

The clip cuts again. Richards returns with his announcement, his lips twisted into a disgusting smile.

_But we’re doing it together and that’s what matters. I can assure there’s nothing to fear. We’ve got a solution! It’s called the Lifetime Employment Program! We will freeze most of the colony to preserve resources, while the best and brightest of Byzantium will solve Halcyon’s nutrition crisis. Individuals will be revived on a rotational basis so everyone can be part of the important work of saving our colony!_

_And someday in the not too distant future, when we solve this crisis, we’ll all be back together again, working for the good of the star system. Until then, take your vitamins, obey your supervisors and follow your corporate mandated grooming rituals. Rest assured with the Halcyon Holdings Corporations on your side, there is nothing to fear_.

The Board’s insignia zooms into view. The presentation ends. Alex’s heart pounds behind his ears. He fumes. So this is what Project Lazarus-- _the Lifetime Employment Program_ \--is about? A pretense for the Board to hoard and waste all of Halcyon’s supplies?”

“Richards also ordered cutting communications with Earth,” Nora says. She tries to keep calm, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. “There was supposed to be a supply ship heading from Earth, which was to arrive in Halcyon in six months.”

“That’s fucked up,” June says, her eyes glassy. “They’re squeezing every bit of Halcyon’s resources so they can justify putting people in--” She shakes her head, biting her lip.

“We have to get the formula,” Alex says roughly, a fire blazing inside his body. “We have to get the formula, and revive everyone on _The Hope_.”

They escape Richards’ office, and head to the elevators. Alex presses ‘B’ on the wall. He checks the time, 6:45 PM. They have 45 minutes. The elevator is going way too slow for his comfort.

“Patch a call to Henry for me,” he says, his heart pounding against his chest. June presses a button on her terminal, Henry’s number.

After a long beat or two, Henry answers.

“ _Hello. We’re waiting for you outside,_ ” Henry says, out of breath. “ _Did you find the location of the formula?_ ”

“Yeah, it’s in the HHC Offices’ basement,” Alex replies.

 _“Alright, we’ll go back in._ ”

"No, we’ll meet you on _The Unreliable_."

There’s a long pause on the line. Alex can’t hear anything, not even the sound of Henry’s breathing.

“ _Okay_ ,” Henry says eventually, and his heart sounds like it shattered. It takes everything in Alex _not_ to say _“Come with me,”_ but he’ll be safer on the ship. This feels like goodbye. They’ve had a lot of these moments throughout this journey, but this is the first time the finality sinks in.

“Henry, I--” Alex starts.

 _“I know_. _Don’t die,_ please.” He ends the call.

The number on the elevator screen ticks to 2.

“You two should also get back on _The Unreliable_ ,” Alex tells Nora and June. His knuckle hovers on ‘M’ for the main floor, their escape before Alex leads them to the unknown.

“No, we’re staying. You’re not getting that formula alone.” June squares her shoulders.

“Yeah, and to be fair, we do have a 15% chance of grabbing the formula without alerting the authorities,” Nora says, placing her hand on June’s shoulder.

“That’s actually better than I expected.” Alex’s mouth grows into a small smile.

The elevator creaks to a halt. They step outside. The laboratory is massive. They can put two _Unreliables_ in here and still have room. Cylindrical tanks line in rows, each with a person submerged in silver-blue liquid. Their eyes are closed. Sleeping. He's seen this experiment before back at _Roseway Gardens_. These people, unlike the failed experiments at _Roseway_ , are alive from the smooth colour of their complexions, and the air bubbles floating from their lips. Did they come here willingly? Were they kidnapped for Richards' twisted Lifetime Employment Program? The whole thing terrifies him.

“Let’s just get the formula and get out of here,” Alex says.

As they search through the laboratory, they don’t see anyone but the people in the tanks. There are tubes protruding from the tanks, converging into a thick pipe. The pipe snakes around the rows, feeding through a massive control panel at the very end. There are levers, buttons and switches, commands which he cannot understand the purpose of. Yet the most striking feature of this control panel is the hollowed-out centre. A monitor fits in this cavern, linked to a glass container with silver-blue liquid. The monitor reads: _DIMETHYL SULFOXIDE 100%._

It's the formula.

"Is that it?" June asks, her voice barely a whisper. Alex nods.

He touches the glass and his terminal beeps. A message from DIA.

**WARNING:**

TAKING 100% OF THE FORMULA KILLS ALL TEST SUBJECTS. EXERCISE CAUTION.

I PROPOSE WE TAKE ONLY 67% OF THE FORMULA, CAPTAIN. WHILE IT MIGHT NOT REVIVE ALL OF THE PASSENGERS ON THE HOPE, THE TEST SUBJECTS WILL STILL SURVIVE.

His lungs expel an empty laugh. Of all the trials and tribulations and the search they have gone through, the formula is locked in a fucking trolley problem.

Nora scans the formula; her terminal buzzes.

"It doesn't look like there's a way to get _all_ of the formula and not kill the test subjects." Nora frowns. Alex was hopeful, but he knows deep in his heart, there isn’t a solution. The trolley problem isn’t meant to have answers. The trolley problem isn’t _meant_ to be anything but a question of ethics, and the Board is testing his. Alex wiggles his fingers.

They need the formula for _The Hope’s_ best and brightest, thousands of capable people: the scientists, the innovators, leaders--like his parents--who _might_ lead Halcyon into a new age. He hates it, but he thinks _they_ \--the sleepers on _The Hope_ \--deserve the formula, to breath Halcyon’s air after 70 years of slumber.

The water keeps them safe.

The water keeps them _safe_.

Alex’s mind goes blank. He pulls down the lever. The container rolls out with a sharp click. Alex cradles the formula to his chest. The container is cold, numbing, like holding a block of ice until his skin pricks.

The monitor flashes red, a flame licking an oil spill.

ALERT.

ALERT.

ALERT.

TEST SUBJECT NO. 44516 AT CRITICAL CONDITION. TEST SUBJECT NO. 44718 AT CRITICAL CONDITION. TEST SUBJECT NO. 44431 AT CRITICAL CONDITION. TEST SUBJECT NO. 44617 AT CRITICAL CONDITION. TEST SUBJECT TEST SUBJECT TEST SUBJECT TEST SUBJECT TEST SUBJECT TEST SUBJECT TEST SUBJECT TEST SUBJECT TEST TEST TEST TEST TEST TEST TEST TEST TEST

They open their eyes, bloodshot and bulging as if they’ll pop out of their sockets. They gasp. They open their mouths, a soundless scream. Water pushes in. They claw, knock, bang, kick, bang on the glass. _Help!_ It sounds like, _Help_! And he wants to. God knows, he wants to. He wants to help everyone. Isn't this why he signed their death warrants? Because the Hope carries Halcyon's salvation. Because these test subjects are fodder, a mere casualty for the future of Halcyon, a proof of Richards' greed and incompetence.

Because he wants to see his parents.

Some stare into the distance. Some look at him. _You did this! How could you?_

And it feels like water has flooded his lungs too. Like he’s clawing for air too. Like he’s trapped in a cylindrical water tank too. Like he’s submerged in liquid which keeps him safe, and a starry-eyed boy in captain’s clothes cuts his life short.

Like.

Like.

Like he’s drowning.

(Alex, you killed them.)

(Every single one of them.)

( _We are not going to kill anyone_!)

How amusing.

Captain Alex Hawthorne.

The scientists in the old MSI factory.

Dr. Harper.

The test subjects.

Their blood is on your hands.

_“Alex we have to go!”_

Hands yank him by his shoulder, dragging his feet. Cool air touches his skin. A different set of hands carry him, dangling his legs over a strong forearm, warmer and familiar like home, Earth home. There are bullets zipping, and voices yelling, calling his name. And Alex clings to the container.

He thinks and he thinks yet he's stuck in the laboratory, seeing limp bodies float in tanks.

His brain scrambles up a list.

  1. Grab the formula
  2. Grab the formula
  3. Grab the formula
  4. Grab



5 The test subjects in the tanks.

6 The people.

7 Choking.

8 Gasping for air.

Like drowning.

Like waking up from a seventy-year nap and exploding into a pile of goo.

It was easy.

Pull the plug.

Get the formula.

There were consequences. It said on the monitor.

One hundred percent.

Kills all subjects being tested.

He read it thrice before pulling the plug.

How stupid were _you_ to think they would have died a peaceful death?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi alsdfads so...this was 3 months later than it should be but the last few months have been really weird. If any of you are still following, I hope you enjoy the last remaining chapters.

Alex comes back to this body in increments. He's in his quarters on _The Unreliable_ , curled up under his covers.

Henry is there on his bed. Henry is there, a small smile tugging his lips. Henry is there, and Jesus Christ, Alex can’t believe he hasn’t run back to his golden palace—his home, where he would be safe. ( _The tanks keep them safe_. _The tanks_ kept _them safe_ ). Henry brushes a stray strand from his forehead, his touch tender; like Alex is delicate, precious even. A flame flickers inside his heart, which crawls up the nerves under skin, and burns his eyelids.

_Their eyes burn too. Round little things. Bulging out of their sockets. It’d be a shame if they just..._

Henry's leather brogues land on the floor with a clap, interrupting Alex's thoughts. He slides into the bed next to him. Warmth radiates, an open fireplace carved in The White House’s living room—a place that once rooted his heartstrings in the soil. Alex never left Earth. Alex’s feet are firmly planted on Earth soil, on Earth rock, on Earth ground. Even if he uproots himself, and travels to new soil, Earth would always be there—a constant, tugging his heartstrings _home_.

"Can I?" Henry says. Henry curves his hand on Alex’s neck. He skates his jaw with tender fingertips, pressing his thumb on Alex’s lip.

"Can I?" Henry says again, a plea not a question.

Alex nods, a slight movement of his chin. Henry brings their lips together. If they'll live to see _after_ , if _after_ is a kind, gentle promise, he hopes Henry would still love him, stripped down to his wounds and blood-stained hands. Not Captain of _The Unreliable_. Not Captain _Hawthorne_. Just Alex. Just _Alex_.

Maybe, that’s what this system needs. Ordinary, _nameless_ people who are simply waystations in a hero’s journey. They’re the ones who keep the system alive, after all.

“Where’s the formula?” Alex asks, bowing his head on Henry’s shoulder.

“In the cargo hold,” Henry says.

"Has anyone told Zahra?"

"We're heading to her station. Nora was up all night changing the protocol. DIA was threatening to flush her out the airlock.” Henry laughs, and Alex should laugh too.

He should _feel._

"Do you want to talk about it?" Henry draws patterns on his back as if his fingers are the key matching with the ridges of Alex’s spine.

“Just tell me if I did the right thing back there, in the laboratory,” Alex says, pressing fingers on Henry’s jaw.

“I don’t know, but I know your heart is true, and you’re good, so fucking good.” Henry takes his fingers, kissing them one by one. “Most people aren’t and they’ve done worse things than you for less altruistic reasons.”

“But I read the label. I knew they were going to die, and I did it anyway.”

“The Board put them in those tanks. They would have died anyway. Some of them might have already, with their experiments.” Henry exhales a shaky breath. “And they did it for their sake. You took the formula to save _The Hope_ and Halcyon.”

Somehow, Henry has this way of pulling Alex's messed up thoughts short, and bringing them to a solid conclusion. So Alex kisses him again, and his taut body comes loose.

 _After_ , he tugs his lip, a wordless promise. _After_. When the ashes cool, and the world doesn’t feel like it’s collapsing under Alex’s feet. After they win, and they have a place on solid rock—not quite a home but a steadiness in this universe of uncertainty—Alex will hold Henry’s hand, and tell him everything.

At some point Alex drifts off once more into sleep. He wakes in the middle of the night cycle by the sound of the shower in his bathroom. Henry isn’t on his bed, though his brogues are tucked neatly by Alex's boots. He gets out of bed. He pads to the bathroom, finding the door unlocked.

Henry is there, naked, dripping in shower water, _and_ Henry has left the shower door unlocked for _him_. That cheeky bastard, Alex smiles to himself. He imagines different scenarios that _could_ happen once he enters the bathroom. All induce an unbearable ache in Alex’s pants.

As soon as Alex pushes the door, the shower turns off. Henry opens the sliding door, very naked and dripping wet. His skin glistens under the bright lights, and suddenly Alex finds his throat dry. Heat crawls up his neck; he wants to lick every single droplet on that damn body.

“Do you want to come in?” Henry says.

“Eager, are we sweetheart?” Alex scoffs playfully, but he strips out of his clothes, collecting them in a pile next to Henry’s.

Henry pushes him against the shower wall, and kisses him. It's soft and languid and all-consuming. Alex loses himself in it: in the slide of their tongues, the quiet little gasps Henry makes when he breaks for air, the hunger in his lips when sinks back into the warmth of Alex's mouth.

Alex runs his hands along Henry's sides. His fingers trace the hard sinews; touch the bone jutting out of his hips like Alex hasn’t touched him before. He revels in every perfect bit of his body, in how perfectly they fit together.

Alex slips his hand between their bodies. He reaches for Henry's cock, but Henry catches his wrists, pinning them above his head.

"You haven't washed all day," Henry says.

"Does it matter? We're going to be dirty again." Alex bucks his hips eliciting a low groan from Henry.

"It matters because I won't suck you off while you smell like old bedsheets."

"Fine."

Alex pushes the shower on. He leads Henry under the spray and turns so his back meets Henry's chest. Henry lathers Alex’s body with soap, caressing his skin with gentle circles and _care_. With every touch Henry shoves away the wicked things Alex conjures up, and tells him: _No, remember this instead_.

Alex has no words. His heart feels full, expanding past the crevices of his ribcage, and settling at his throat. So, he reaches behind his back, threading his fingers through Henry’s damp hair and fuses their lips, tasting recycled water. Henry curls his hand around Alex's dick, stroking him languorously. Alex moans, caught inside the heat of Henry's mouth.

It’s slow, too fucking slow. Usually, he hates it. Usually, Alex wants to feel raw and chafed. Touch all the places Henry has touched him and ache.

He'll ache after this. He'll be _consumed_ , a comet fizzling when it nears the sun.

Heat knots inside his belly. Alex reaches for the button, turning off the shower.

“I want to fuck you,” Alex groans, craning his neck to meet Henry's eyes. “I want to fuck you. _Fuck_.”

"On your bed," Henry growls above his ear. "I want to see the stars on you while you fuck me."

The thought of Henry flushed and bathed in starlight sends electricity down Alex's spine.

They step out of the shower and dry off. Henry fishes inside his trousers, procuring a square foil and _travel sized_ lube. Alex snorts a laugh. Henry raises an eyebrow.

Alex snakes his arms around Henry's hips, resting his hands on his waist. He pulls him close, pressing a light kiss on the 'v' of his collarbone.

"Just wondering if you were carrying a travel sized lube all this time," Alex says.

"Only after a saucy tart plundered my virtue in zero gravity." Henry laughs.

"Didn't hear any complaints about it, _baby_ ," Alex says.

He tugs Henry’s skin between his teeth. Henry exhales, tight and slow, like pressure leaving an airlock. His cock grows stiffer on Alex's thigh. He _wants_ this too—is desperate for it. Alex links their fingers, practically dragging him into the bedroom and onto the bed.

Henry lies on his back, his hair mused and his lips red and swollen. The stars blanket his naked skin, matching his freckles. He looks at him through dark, lidded eyes. Alex forgets how to breathe.

He kisses him, slow and deep, as if he's sucking the air out of Henry's lungs. Alex presses open mouth kisses on Henry's chest, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He takes the lube and condom, and straddles his hips. "How do you want me to fuck you?"

Henry brings his hand to Alex's cheek, brushing reverently. "Like this. I want to see you."

"Okay." Alex kisses his palm. " _Okay_."

Alex pops the cap open, pouring some on his fingers. He rubs his palms together, warming up the lube, and slides a finger inside of Henry.

Henry’s breath hitches, his teeth leaving indents on his lips. Alex pumps his finger in and out of him, watching as Henry quivers and writhes beneath him, clinging desperately to the bed sheets. He adds another finger, and the sound Henry makes goes right into his groin.

"You're so good, baby. So, so good for me," Alex says, awed. He’s handsome, always, a timeless beauty which Alex has fallen for over and over again. Alex wants to sink in the silvery pools of his eyes and stay there, forever, encased by his body and soul.

"Please, I want—" Henry groans.

"Please, what?" Alex says, a mischievous smile curling his lips.

"You know what I mean." He rolls his hips, fucking himself on Alex's fingers—a mental image which would stay with Alex forever.

"Use your words, _writer_." Alex swirls his tongue around his nipple.

"I want you inside of me. _Please._ I want you to fuck me— _ah,_ " Henry mewls as Alex removes his fingers.

Alex rips the foil, rolling the condom on his cock. He slicks himself with lube, and lines up at Henry's entrance. Henry wraps his thighs around Alex's waist, threading his right hand with Alex's left.

Alex is ready, he thinks he's ready. He's been ready for 70 fucking years.

Slowly, he pushes in, letting Henry feel every inch of him as he bottoms out. Henry gazes at him, pliant and wanting. His expression is pure ecstasy. The stars are a blanket on the expanse of his skin, like Alex is wading through a moonless midnight sky. They can make a painting out of this.

Alex squeezes their linked fingers. He moves, setting a steady rhythm.

It's better than everything Alex expected, and Henry's so good. _Fuck_. He's so fucking good and hot around Alex's cock. Alex feels like he's going to combust if this ends.

He never wants this to end. He wants to tell the galaxy's beating heart to stop, to stand still.

Soon, Alex grows more erratic, thrusting into Henry harder and deeper. Henry rolls his hips back. They both groan as they meet in the middle, the sound reverberating around this deep blue room.

A knot of heat forms inside Alex's belly. Henry curls his hand around his cock, wantonly stroking himself to release.

“That’s it, come for me sweetheart,” Alex coaxes, rocking into him as Henry crests his peak.

Henry comes with a choked groan, his mouth agape and his eyebrows knit. A pink flush fans out from his cheeks to his ears. Alex tells himself, remember this—a star going supernova at his fingertips.

Alex thrusts into him once, twice before he sees new stars on the back of his eyelids. He grunts, spilling deep.

They lay there, basking in the warmth of post-coital haze. Henry's fingers are still linked with Alex's. He squeezes them, pressing a soft, bone-tired kiss on Henry's mouth. Henry runs his fingers down his damp spine, pulling Alex close.

"So, we should probably head into the shower again," Henry starts, an impish grin on his face.

"Maybe in a few minutes," Alex mumbles, his eyes half closed, curling inside of Henry's arms. Henry kisses his temple, a gentle kiss which makes his heart flutter.

It's strange knowing someone for a short period of time, yet feeling like the universe has tugged your heartstrings together. If things went the way they should—if _The Hope_ landed on Halcyon 70 years ago and Alex came out, unscathed, he would never have met Henry. They would have lived many long years without crossing paths.

"Hey, I know it was crazy then, and it's probably still crazy now," Alex starts, blinking away his tears. "But if we make it out of this alive— _when_ we win. If people ask us how we met, I want you to smile."

Henry's smile is brilliant, and Alex kisses it.

***

They do shower again. Quicker this time, and without much distraction. Alex dries off and puts on his clothes. He leaves Henry in his quarters to dress, and marches down the cockpit. June is there, sitting on the captain’s chair. Captain fits her well, Alex thinks, but he wouldn't wish the things he's seen—the things he has _done_ —on anyone.

"ETA to your destination is two hours," DIA announces, a shrill voice and definitely not their usual flat cadence.

"What's wrong with them?" Alex says.

"No idea. They've been weird since Nora changed the protocol," June says. She kicks her heel to the ground, spinning the chair to face him.

"Are you okay?" June asks softly. It’s her code words for: _do you want to spill, the hard memories you dream and think about, and still feel like shit after?_

"Can we please not talk about it?" he says. No, Alex is not okay—he’s not _well_. The dark crescents under his eyes, and his squeamishness from a small prick of blood should tell them his current wellbeing.

“Okay, but you know I’m always here, and we haven’t really talked about—”

"Incoming message from Zahra Bankston," DIA interrupts them.

" _Shit! You have to go back_ ," Zahra says. Static. Bullets fire in the background. “ _Just get to_ The Hope.” Static. More bullets. Static.

Alex panics. He scrambles for the communications panel.

“Zahra?” He calls. “Zahra! Are you there? Please answer.”

“Alex, look.” June points at an incoming ship, twice the size of _The Unreliable_ , and with enough weapons to render a city like Byzantium into rubble. The ship stops. Alex has a clear view of the engraving on her hull— _HHC Hyperion_.

 _Shit_. Then, buzzing on their terminal screens is a vid Jeffrey Richards and his curdled milk complexion. He has a wolfish grin as wide as the stretch of cheeks. How mortifying.

"Hello, Captain Hawthorne,” he says, his smile widening as he speaks. “You have an hour to bring the formula to _Hyperion_ , or else you and your motley crew of misfits shall be violently terminated.”


	14. Chapter 14

"So we're fucked.” An astute observation by Nora about their current predicament. She crosses the room, and takes a seat at her usual spot beside June.

Alex has called a meeting in the dining hall to talk about the situation, and for the last ten minutes, they’ve done _everything_ but talk. Henry runs down to the cargo hold; David scampers behind his heels. June eats leftover pasta—or an _attempt_ at pasta. Alex clearly recalls it’s their attempt at dinner from a few days ago, which feels like _years_ with everything that has happened. Nora tinkers with her terminal. Pez knits a brightly coloured garment with an equally strange pattern.

Alex paces and paces and paces, and _thinks_. Capitalism—the Board’s debauchery has flayed his mind, sapped his thoughts down to the thinnest strand.

Henry returns, carrying a cylindrical container. No, it’s not the formula. It’s the final bottle of triple-distilled and 145-year-old Mount Milgrom whiskey from the crates. Henry twists the cap.

“Cheers.” He raises the glass, and tips the bottle to this mouth. Henry offers Alex the whiskey, and he drinks the alcohol straight from the bottle, too.

So yes, Nora _is_ correct. They are fucked.

 _“Incoming message from Chief Director Richards_ ,” DIA announces, a warning, but in their shrill voice it comes out as an upbeat Byzantiumian advertisement.

 _“Captain Hawthorne, you still haven’t brought the formula. Are you asking to be terminated?_ ” Richards says

“You gave us a fucking hour,” Alex says, the alcohol dulling the fear inside his gut. “It’s been like 10 minutes.”

“ _That was a figure of speech._ ” If Alex had a death wish, he’d ask DIA to cut off Richards right now. Instead, he’s counting every expletive in his vocabulary.

“Err...uhm, Chief Director Richards?” Henry calls.

“ _What is it?_ ”

“We would need to prepare the formula for transport. You see, the container was slightly damaged during the space flight,” Henry says, his cheeks blaring a bright red. “We would need the full hour to finish preparations.”

Richards mutters something unintelligible, sprinkled with a colourful array of expletives.

“ _Fine. Bring the formula to me once the hour is up_.” He ends the call.

“Okay, we have to fucking come up with a plan.” Alex slams the whiskey down.

“Easy.” Nora smirks. “Don’t give the formula to Richards.”

“ _Easy_?” Pez punctures the word with a jab of a needle. “Did you not hear our gracious Director say, _violently terminated_?”

“What else could we do? Let _The Hope_ die?”

“ _The Hope_ would still die if we’re violently terminated.”

“Maybe, there’s another way,” June says, smudging pasta sauce from her jacket. “Like we can keep the formula, and also, tell Richards to fuck off.”

The last time Alex considered another way, innocent people were violently terminated, by his own hands. So, like, he has every right to be skeptical.

“It’s not like the lab with all those people and the formula,” June says, an intense look on her face, as if she’s trying to read his mind “You know it’s not.”

“The options in the lab were fairly binary,” Nora says.

“And Richards isn’t?”

“Richards can be influenced. Richards has interests over the formula and The Lifetime Employment Program,” Henry says.

“Richards is definitely more self-serving. He’s a man of business, and a politician if you think about it,” Pez comments.

“Yeah, what they said,” Henry agrees. “Also, I did get a bunch of incriminating details from Richards’ office, and you have the files from Luna.”

Alex considers the options laid before him. Richards is not an easy man to deal with. He hides his true demeanor under a veneer of sweetness—a honeyed trap luring unsuspecting victims.

But Alex has dealt with many men like Richards in the Capital Wasteland. He has seen through their cheery facades, and unveiled all their lies like a bad magic trick. Richards is brash and violently threatens anyone who gets in his way, but he’s no different from the self-serving assholes in DC.

A small flame flickers inside his heart. Alex can do this. No, he is _destined_ to do this—a lawyer from the ruins of Old America, who stared at the stars and dreamt big, who has been trying so fucking hard to save a dying star system.

"Give me everything you got from Richards' terminal," Alex tells Nora, and for the rest, "Make sure the formula is ready."

They waste no more time. While they all head to the cargo hold, Alex runs back to his room. Inside his closet is _The Hope_ 's spacesuit—a neat square on the top shelf as he had left it. Nothing about the suit should have changed. Alex has avoided the damn thing.

The sleeves still hug his arms. _The Hope’s_ insignia is still a brilliant Earth’s waters blue under the lowlight. It feels strange, however. If he walked into his White House bedroom after living among the stars, he’d feel the exact strangeness.

Richards wants him to bring the formula to _Hyperion_. There'll be a bridge connecting the two ships. In space. This space suit—a relic of the past—might just be their future's salvation.

Grabbing the oxygen tank, Alex heads down to the atrium by the entrance.

 **nora.holleran** starts messaging **alex.claremontdiaz** 2355-11-15 1:45 AM (HST)

 **nora.holleran  
** just hit send on _end richards career 2355.7z  
_ you should be getting it soon

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** thanks  
u know  
im starting to feel good about our chances with the files  
this should be easy  
this _is_ easy  
like  
go to the hyperion  
meet with richards  
throw facts and yell at him  
so he tells us where zahra is  
AND keep the formula  
find zahra  
wake up the hope??? ??

 **nora.holleran  
** and avoid violent termination

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** i said _starting_ _to_ feel good about our chances

***

Alex fidgets. He sits on a bench at the atrium. June has messaged him earlier that the formula is almost ready for ship to ship transport. He dares not to check how much time has passed. The clock is ticking. On _Hyperion_ , Richards hovers his finger on the button that fires all missiles at _The Unreliable_. Waiting. The clock is ticking.

This is officially the longest hour in all twenty-one plus seventy whatever years in Alex’s life.

The door to the cargo hold opens. Alex expects an entourage—his friends patting him on the back, then sending him to danger. Instead, it’s just Henry and the formula.

Alex touches the formula. No tanks appear. No laboratories and protruding pipes. He's on _The Unreliable_ , pressing his fingers on the cold container.

Henry straps the formula around Alex's hips carefully as if bandaging a wound. He hasn't spoken at all. Alex has bid him goodbye before; has dragged Henry into this liminal space where neither knows if Alex would come back alive or dead. Those goodbyes have an unspoken piece, a line unsaid to protect the truth.

Alex curves his palm around Henry's cheek. His story still has missing parts, mysteries that Alex can wait forever to find out. But Alex _knows_ him for certain, and can admit the unsaid piece in this goodbye.

“I love you," Alex says.

"I know," Henry tells him. Alex kisses him deeply and slowly like the universe has dragged this hour to an infinite time.

Henry breaks away first. He taps Alex's cheek twice. A helmet slides out of his suit, wrapping his head inside a fishbowl. Henry rests on the glass, where their forehead should meet.

"Be safe."

Alex steps inside the airlock. He slams the button. The shutters groan as they slide down the hinges. He touches the door, a gloved palm over the slats. Alex can’t see him, but he knows. Henry’s hands are pressed on the other side, too, and he matches him, palm to palm, finger to finger.

 _I’ll see him again_ , Alex thinks, and twists the latch on the airlock’s door.

The galaxy welcomes him as an old, peculiar acquaintance. If Alex points to a cluster and the empty spaces in between, he can trace the stars to a sky—over solid rock, or over the smooth panels of a station. Each star, each _fragment_ tells a story. Place a lens over any planet in Halcyon. Watch their denizens paint pictures with their lips. _Watch_ as they weave tales out of experiences—the mundane life of a merchant, or perhaps a hunter recalling his catch of the day.

If you fit the fragments into this complicated puzzle called the universe, you can see history unfold. Why would anyone consider Halcyon a lost cause?

Alex is distracted by the wonders of the universe. He doesn’t notice the lack of connection, lack of a bridge between _Hyperion_ and _The Unreliable_.

Great. Richards wants the formula delivered through space. Alex has experienced minimal gravity. Alex has done things _no one_ thinks of ever doing in minimal gravity. (Unless, you’re adventurous but like, sexily.) This, this is different. No walls would catch him if he flies out of orbit. There’s just him, these two ships and the terrifying vacuum of space.

Alex pulls the tether line clasped on the door, pushing the line under his oxygen tank. He swallows deep. The distance between _Hyperion_ and _The Unreliable_ could be measured in miles, but the gap feels like a one-way trip to the edge of the galaxy.

A wide door flaps out of _Hyperion_. Inside is the ship’s cargo hold, filled with nondescript crates and heavily armoured guards.

He only has one chance.

Alex takes a single step, a leap for mankind.

It doesn’t feel strange or terrifying. It doesn’t feel like the world is crumbling each step he takes like the soil is slipping through the cracks in his hands, desperately trying to save this broken world. He feels _free_.

He flies. The line steadies him onto _The Unreliable_. This is like swimming in clean, radiation-free waters back on Earth, he thinks, like dancing in a zero-gravity chamber.

Alex lands feet first into _Hyperion_ , his boots sticking on the ramp. He scrambles inside. The door groans as it closes behind him. He breathes heavily, steadying the drum beating victory in his chest. This is just the first part.

Alex curls his fingers, finding the pea-sized button on his palm. The terminal’s configuration flashes inside his helmet.

**THE SPACE GA(Y)NG MESSAGE BOARD**

**Topic:** No subject  
 **Data:** 2355-11-15 2:00 AM (HST)  
 **Posted By:** alex.claremontdiaz

 **SALL-E  
** WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ONCE SAID, “BREVITY IS THE SOUL OF THE WIT”, BUT OUR SYSTEM IS NOT DESIGNED TO HANDLE BLANK FORMS.

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** im in

 **nora.holleran  
** transferred the rest of the files to you  
good luck

 **alex.claremontdiaz  
** should i be concerned with this  
red pop up i keep seeing on the forum?

 **nora.holleran  
** ignore sally  
they’re being weird  
also idk who looks worse rn btw  
your boyfriend  
or your sister

“Take your helmet off,” a stern voice orders.

Alex taps his cheek. His helmet retracts, sliding inside his suit like a gun into its holster. Armoured guards point their rifles. He raises his hands, twisting his hips so they see the canister—and his round bottom.

“There’s no need to be crass with our guest. He’s come a long way from home after all,” Richards says from a speaker above, sickeningly sweet and polite. Disgusting. Bile churns in Alex’s stomach.

The guards hesitate.

“ _Did I stutter? Lower your fucking guns,”_ Richards snaps. A sigh. “ _Seriously, do I need to demonstrate how to do your own jobs?”_

Ah, there’s the Richards who threatened to violently terminate _The Unreliable_.

“ _Just bring him in.”_

The guards quietly escort him along a narrow hallway, their faces obscured by visors. Alex hates it. He can't decipher their intentions, what their boss would do once Alex meets him. They reach the door at the end of the hallway, plain and nondescript. The head guard—he assumes based on the golden insignia on their chest—presses two fingers in their ear.

"He's outside," they say.

There's a faint " _Thank you,_ _bring him in,_ " from their earpiece. The head guard twists the doorknob, pushing the door softly, and gestures Alex to go in. He hesitates; he feels a cool metal pressed on the back of his head, the end of a rifle.

"Yeah, I'm going in. Jesus," Alex says.

A long table occupies the room. Richards sits at the far end.

"Hello, Captain,” Richards says, his mouth twisted in his usual wolfish smile.

The guard pushes his rifle, gesturing at a chair. Alex complies. So this is how the Board is going to end him, inside this drab room with the ugliest wallpaper.

"Thank you. Leave us," Richards orders his guards.

They shuffle out the door without hesitation. Alex waits until their footsteps fade, then he slams an open palm on the table.

"Where's Zahra?" Alex demands.

“Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz. First Son of the United States of America or lack thereof. An intern at Maloney-Frost, specializing in lawsuits against Universal Holdings Companies,.” Richards reads off a data pad. “Father, Senator Oscar Diaz of the California Republic, opposed the California Republic’s expansion towards Hoover Dam. Mother, President Ellen Claremont of the Commonwealth, ousted by the will of the people in 2285.” Richards flicks his wrist. “I’ve read quite a bit about you.”

The datapad slides across the table as if made of ice, bumping on Alex’s fingers.

“It was a fucking coup,” he mutters under his breath.

“History thinks otherwise,” Richards says, grinning sharp and too wide for Alex’s comfort.

“History is written by the winners. It’s as much a tool of propaganda as any vid.”

“Or history was written by those who did not run to the edge of the galaxy after one bad election. Where did you think I got these files from, Alex?”

Alex seethes inwardly, biting his tongue.

“I wonder how future generations will remember you by? As the dashing captain who toppled years of our diligent work? Or an obscure footnote in the books?” Richards asks, drumming his fingers on the table. It's a hypothetical question—a bluff. Alex can tell.

“Cut the bullshit Richards. I know about the Lifetime Employment Program,.” Alex snarls.

Richards raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what do you know exactly?”

"I know well enough that it's full of shit.," He narrows his eyes, and then, a smug grin crosses his face. "Just like you."

Richards draws his lips into a thin line, his veneer showing the slightest of cracks. He wants something. People like Richards spend their entire lives drowning in riches, caring little of the world around them.

"Very well, if we you must be frank," he says coolly in spite of the clear irritation in his features, "I invited you here not because I have a semblance of respect for someone like _you_. You have something I—the Halcyon Holdings Corporations wants."

Alex leans back on his chair, grinning impishly. "Whatever might that be that maybe?"

"The formula. The one you stole,." Richards exhales sharply. "You caused quite the commotion in Byzantium, I didn't think you'd forget."

"Must be the side effects of swimming through space,” he jests. “Makes the brain loopy.”

"Do you have the formula or not?" Richard growls.

"What would it mean if I do?"

"It's a simple yes or -no question. Do. You. Have. It?"

"Yes.”

Alex considers carefully the garish red fade from his neck. Jeffrey Richards is first and foremost a man of business. He deals in negotiations, bargaining for the right price—or given what he has seen of Halcyon, beating you up for the right price. Alex hopes his predicament isn’t the latter.

He wants the formula, that much is true. But beneath his self-confident veneer—: his all-too pleasant smiles, wide and toothy, glinting as the light hits his teeth— is a man barely clinging on the threads of power.

Alex unhooks the canister from his belt. He places the formula on the table, watching with hidden satisfaction as Richards’ expression lights up. Just as Alex expected. Richards stays seated, however, and his lips are pressed firmly together.

Sweat rolls down Alex's cheek. _What kind of game is Richards trying to play_?

“You’re a clever man,.” Richards smirks, the façade slotting back in place. “I see why Miss Bankston took a special interest in you.”

Alex chews on the inside of his mouth, steadying the heat bubbling in his stomach. He imagines his fist connecting with Richards' pearly teeth.

“And a clever man such as yourself wouldn’t want our...grievances ending in spilled blood.” He threads his fingers over the table. Oh, he knows where this is going. He’s seen that same face on company men in the Commonwealth, who think they can bribe their way out of a settlement.

Alex crosses his arms. "So is it time to hear your proposal now or..?”

“Impatient are we?” Richards says, raising an eyebrow. “And here I was going to commend your actions for—”

“Just fucking tell me what you want and I’ll decide if it’s worth it or not.”

Richards is taken aback. And Alex has no fucks left to give.

"Give me the formula and Zahra Bankston," he says, "then you and your motley crew of misfits can live the rest of your lives in a Monarch homestead. Though I do think Director Windsor wants her dear grandson back."

"So you're really just going to abandon _The Hope_?" Alex asks.

"I don't see it as abandoning The Hope. Think of it more as sustaining the current population. We don't need another thousand to feed."

"They're not just another thousand! They're people."

"Halcyon has thousands more. Let's not kid ourselves, Halcyon cannot survive another year with the current supplies we have. The Lifetime Employment Program is harm reduction for a better future."

"You say this is for the greater good? You call killing innocents whose only crime is they slept for too long, harm reduction?" he says, standing up and leaning forward as though Richards is mere inches away from him. He wishes he was. So he can look him in the eye and tell him the names of the families aboard _The Hope._ The people he wants dead.

"Don't think," Richards snaps, pointing a crooked finger, "you can lecture me on ethics when you killed our people!"

"People? Oh, so they're people now to you," Alex scoffs.

"Yes," he hisses. "You don't have the right to lay judgement on me when up until a few months ago you were refrigerated in a casket.—" He draws a hand over his face.— "I tried to be civil with you, tried to understand your wants and needs and yet you dare question if _I_ care about these people, these _workers_ , the very foundation of this system, this _empire—_ "

The person across the table looks less like the Chief Director of Halcyon Holdings Company.

Alex plays his cards.

"If you care so much about these workers," Alex says, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips, "then why did you cut off communication and supply lines with the Earth Directorate?"

"How did you—I didn't order it!" Richards argues, his eyes are wide and maniacal. "They stopped! They stopped talking to us years ago!"

"Evidence in your office says otherwise." Alex makes a swiping motion above his terminal. A faint projection of the communication logs float over the table, highlighting the angry _DENIED_ on Earth's requests.

"You're accusing the wrong person. Catherine Fox is the Director of Earth Liaisons. Ask that _brat_ in your crew what his mother has been doing since the death of her husband."

Alex's fingernails dig into his palms. How dare he call Henry a _brat_?

"While it's true Catherine Fox hasn't been active as the Director of Earth Liaisons," he says, "I believe you took over some of her duties, particularly the communications between Earth and Halcyon."

Richards crosses his arms. "Her mother personally asked me. How embarrassing."

"Then I can assume you have access to Earth's comm channels," he says, blood pumping behind his ears. "So why didn't you respond to any of their messages?"

"I—It wasn't—"

“Why were you disrupting supply lines from the Earth Directorate?”

Richards stammers. “Now, you’re just repeating the same question.”

“Why did you deny Amy Chen’s request to investigate Project Lazarus and _Roseway Gardens_?” Alex presses on. “Why block Ada Okonjo from sending a request to rejoin the Board?”

“Neither of them had the proper paperwork,” he says, rubbing his hands.

“Why were you sabotaging Halcyon so you can justify the Lifetime Employment Program and hoard all of the remaining resources for yourself and your cronies?”

"Halcyon is a fucking lost cause!” Richards slams one hand on the table, grabbing a fistful of his hair with the other. “A goddamn mistake spurned by humanity's desire to escape the horrid results of our own actions. You know it! You lived on that fucking wasteland of a planet." A dark, raspy laugh leaves his lips. "Escape? As if we can escape the virtues ingrained in us since the beginning of time. Humanity by nature, _we_ by nature, take and take until every last drop is dried out. Halcyon is just another Earth. Another wasteland in the making.”

"Okay but you had like 70 years to set things right. You had the tools, the resources, the people,” Alex says. He rocks back on his chair, holding its arms as though a king on a throne. “I see through you, Richards. You got used to wealth and now you're afraid to distribute it."

"And what are you going to do? Strip me off my wealth? Give it to those who are undeserving? Who never worked hard towards our achievements?"

"I might." He twists a small finger in his ear. "Or I could get the people to do it."

He swipes over the terminal again. The holo shifts, twisting into a web of networks, the data points branching from the net hang like fruit from a tree, each marked with Richards.

"One press of a button and I leak every single plan, every propaganda vid, every holo to every corner of Halcyon.” He grins broadly. "Let's see what the people say when they find out they're sacrificial lambs for the Board."

"I could shoot you, you know," Richards threatens, pink-faced, his hair coming out in silver strands.

"You wouldn't. You'd hate it if I became a martyr when someone takes your place as the darling of Halcyon."

Richards curls his hands into fists, digging his knuckles on the table. The man on the other side of the table looks nothing like a Director of the Board now.

"You're a leech just like us," he sneers, voice rough like a dirt scattered on the sidewalk, "just like that brat in your crew or Okonjo. You're all leeches."

"That may be true but unlike you, we care about these people and this system," he says, “Now. Where. _Is._ Zahra?”

***

Alex lands into _The Unreliable_ first. He touches the formula at his hip, his heart beating a steady drum of victory. Behind him, Zahra floats into the airlock in a space suit they borrowed from _Hyperion_.

He found her inside an interrogation chamber, unharmed beside the bullet holes on her overcoat. True to his word, Richards lets them go with the formula. _Hyperion_ disappears as a twinkle in the stars. Richards won't bother them anymore.

“Thanks for saving me. Even if I did tell you to go to _The Hope_ ,” Zahra says as she locks the door to the airlock.

Alex flashes a smile. After all this time, there's something he wants to know.

"Why me?" Alex asks.

"Easy. You were the first one who didn't die," Zahra says. "There were others before you. Some more qualified than a wannabe lawyer squatting in a wannabe White House."

"Hey, I did my practicum!"

"Others less so. All of them had one thing in common, they exploded as soon as I opened their pod. You were the first who lived." She looks at him but her eyes are distant.

“Uhmm...when I retrieved the formula, there were people in these tanks,” Alex starts. “They were part of the Lifetime Employment Program which is Richards’ sick plan to keep everyone working and the formula is supposed to keep them alive and—and—” His lungs struggle to give air, like _water_ is pushing down his throat, like he's drowning.

Zahra touches his shoulder, her eyes clouded with a slight sheen. He wonders if she can see them too, the casualties of her actions.

“They’ll be remembered. We'll remember them," she says.

Alex nods. They're dead. Nothing else they can do but honour their sacrifices by making Halcyon better for all. With the formula in his hand and _The Hope_ a skip away, he twists the latch.

***

As soon as the door closes behind them, Alex taps his cheek. The helmet hisses, rolling back into his suit. Henry cards his fingers through Alex's sweaty curls, and pulls him in a fierce kiss which knocks the wind out of Alex's throat. They kiss and kiss and kiss, not caring if Zahra is in the room.

He breaks away first, his skin buzzing with giddiness. Henry palms his cheeks. He brushes their noses, his smile wide and brilliant like the universe—Alex’s personal galaxy balanced on his fingertips.

Then, June has him and Nora and Pez, and little David too, pawing at his feet. Laughing and squealing. They did it. They really did it, this motley crew of people who dreamed bigger and better than what life set out for them.

"Richards won't bother us anymore. All we have to do now is get to _The Hope_ and wake everyone," he says, his cheeks aching from smiling so much.

"Then let's do it," June says, her eyes shining.

They all head into the cockpit. Zahra stands by the communications panel. She has taken off her spacesuit, and is in her usual white overcoat. Alex gives her the formula. She smiles. He hasn't seen her smile before.

He slides into the captain's chair. Henry stands beside him, linking their fingers together on the waxy leather of the arm rest. June stands on his left, hugging Pez's waist while he hugs Nora. They're happy—bright glowing faces outshining any star out the window.

Victorious, Alex enters _The Hope_ 's coordinates. He squeezes Henry's fingers.

"DIA, set a course for _The Hope,_ " he says.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! We're finally here :) Check the end for more rambling.

**TRANSCRIPT OF THE MAN ON THE MOON'S FINAL BROADCAST, October 2, 2356**

People of Nova Edgewater and of _The Groundbreaker_ and of Byzantium, and of every budding frontier town in our New Republic, this is my final news.

As many of you know, the first anniversary of _The Hope's_ arrival—or Landing Day—is next month. I have received a number of requests asking me to cover it. According to one special listener, I was "being lazy and stealing all of our money while MM partied down on an asteroid for eight months."

Well, I'm sorry if I haven't broadcasted in a while. Some of us were busy helping to resurrect a star system.

In fact, I'm not supposed to do this. I’m under contract for another thing, but since our special listener asked so kindly, well, this is for you, Patrick from Byzantium, and of course, for my fans who have been tuning in every week. Thank you for upholding integrity and freedom of information. We're in a better place now, I think, with leaders who are open and listen to all of us. As such, I think it's time this station goes off air.

Also because of that contract, but you know if there's ever a need for the Man on the Moon, I trust one of you can pick it back up.

But, just know that this is really for Patrick.

After _The Hope_ arrived on Terra-2 with most of her sleepers out of cryo—including Byzantium's current Chair, Ellen Claremont—the Board and their associates fled. I know. According to one source, after Chief Director Richards mysteriously disappeared, plenty followed suit.

Some stayed for the negotiations, like Catherine Fox-Windsor and her mother Mary Windsor. I heard it was quite…a colourful exchange. Damn, I should have been there. Anyway, Catherine pledged to have all of the Windsor assets liquidated and transferred to the newly established Rebuild Halcyon Initiative. Catherine also offered to help with the Initiative.

Starting with rolling out the guillotines.

I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

Okay, but seriously, when Ellen Claremont was elected as Byzantium’s Chair, she commanded Byzantium’s richest families to redistribute their profits to Halcyon’s hardest working citizens—the ones who keep this system running, and deserve the profits of their labour.

And Byzantium fucking hated it—pardon my language. They rioted for weeks, demanding their money back. It was err...brutal to say the least. Thankfully, the ProCorp—these rioters—have been quiet in the last month. The RHI had wasted resources on them instead of developing programs to help Halcyon.

As for Mary, well there's a reason why Catherine is still an Earth Liaisons Officer while Mary seethes in her silver station above Eridanos—a purple gas giant with no atmosphere, what a wonderful view.

And for the rest of the inhabitants of our lovely system, _The Groundbreaker_ finally freed themselves from Halcyon's bureaucracy as an independent settlement. I heard Monarch is booming thanks to Ada Okonjo's efforts, and Dr. Liang's innovations with integrating the insects with soil management. According to another special viewer from Monarch, they have blinged up the place.

But what about the hero of the hour—the Stranger from Edgewater, the Unplanned Variable—Captain Alex Hawthorne of _The Unreliable_?

I can list out all the rumours and myths I've heard about this guy. I could even make a special show on this. I won't, but there are enough tall tales out there to make it good. . (I particularly love the one where he's a virile hunk—he's not. Trust me. I have a contact who knows him well.)

But one thing I'm certain about is Alex Hawthorne is one of us. He's a mechanic on _The Groundbreaker_ , a farmer toiling in Monarch's fields, or maybe a lawyer drafting policy for the Initiative. Somewhere out there, there is an Alex Hawthorne fighting for a better world, for our future, for Earth's civilization amongst the stars.

You are Alex Hawthorne, building the Halcyon which lives up to its name: — _paradise_.

This is the Man on the Moon—Rafael Luna, signing off.

*******

**Nine months after waking up the sleepers on _The Hope._**

Daylight filters through the windows—sunny stripes blinding his terminal. The kettle on the counter boils for Henry's mid morning tea. Alex sips his coffee. Emerald Vale is fresh greenery with an endless grassland and colourful wildflowers: —an eternal spring. No wonder Henry chose this place for their monthly getaways—which has since become biweekly getaways—from the strain of rebuilding a star system.

"Hey, I'm virile and a hunk," Alex says as soon as they enter the call. Luna has finished airing his final broadcast, and he has some choice words for how he—and June, his writer for this broadcast—described a certain rogue captain.

 _"It's what the script says,"_ Raf shrugs. _"If you've got a problem with that, take it up with the scriptwriter.”_

"Just a personal assessment, you know." June side-eyes Alex from a small window on the screen.

“Still, a lot of people think Alex Hawthorne is not real. You could exaggerate a little bit,” Alex says.

 _"And compromise my journalistic integrity?"_ She feigns disbelief, a mocking gasp that dissolves into laughter. Alex grins in return.

“As if this scathing report is journalistic integrity.”

" _Tell that to your boyfriend's op-ed piece on the Halcyon Observer about Halcyon and the Board's corruption_."

"What about my op-ed piece?" Henry appears behind him, kissing his curls.

"Nothing. June and I were just talking about how your op-ed was instrumental in delivering the final blow to corporate rule," Alex says.

" _That isn't what we were talking about_."

Alex ignores her and Luna. He turns around, pressing his lips fully on Henry's. After almost a year of living together, he still isn't used to their domesticity. Sometimes, he's afraid he'll wake up, and find this has all been a fevered dream, conjured in a 70 year cryogenic sleep.

Henry is there. Henry would pull him out of the deep end when Alex feels like he's drowning. Alex is there too, for him. He'll hold Henry when the days are rough.

There are monsters they cannot battle alone, however. They have therapy to help them with those.

" _As much as I love to see PDA—or private I guess, since this is your house—I do have another appointment to attend to,"_ Luna says, a pause and then he adds. " _With Zahra._ "

Alex breaks away. "Bye, and can you tell Zahra that I'm extending my break to indefinite?"

" _If you have a death wish, sure."_ Luna laughs.

 _I wasn't entirely kidding_ , Alex wants to say but Luna ends the call.

 _"Okay, I have to go too,_ " June says, " _Nora wants me to view the fireworks show she and Pez have come up with for MSI's Grand Reopening."_

"Say hi to Nora and Pez for me. I miss y'all. We should throw a potluck again sometime."

" _We just did that two weeks ago._ "

"Okay, fine. Next month on Landing Day," Alex says.

 _"Sure, by then Henry would actually serve us something that isn't burnt_ ," she teases.

"I was just trying to ensure it was cooked all the way through," Henry says, steeping his tea.

"Yeah, but toasting it to a brick isn't the way to do that, _baby_." Alex kisses his cheek.

June's terminal rings.

 _"Okay, I gotta go. I'll tell Nora and Pez about the potluck."_ She smiles, beaming, and disconnects. She's happy. They both are. She found a home in this system which she didn't want to go to in the first place.

Henry heats the weirdly shaped croissants they made last night. In the living room, he catches David chewing on a rubber ball next to a wall of holographs and personal trinkets. This is more of a home for Henry and him than the apartment they have on Byzantium.

Maybe staying here for good is the best thing he and Henry can do. Henry can finish his manuscript on pre-Halcyon literature, and Alex can draft policy. Most of all, they can rest, and have this quiet sanctuary away from Byzantium's craziness.

His parents would definitely approve, same with Catherine. Zahra will approve once she realizes her newly minted office is one skycar away from this house.

Yeah, the idea sounds wonderful, Alex thinks, sipping his coffee.

He envisions ten years down the line, when Captain Alex Hawthorne is a mere folktale on people's lips, when history writes Alex Claremont-Diaz for his policies on the Rebuild Halcyon Initiative. Ten years later, he and Henry would have this house, or perhaps a bigger one, and a few more canids.

Ten years later, they'll still have their memories, and their adventures. By then, Alex hopes he can tell the story of _The Unreliable_ , _The Hope_ , and how he accidentally destroyed a conglomerate of corporations, without breaking down every five minutes.

It's a work in progress, like Halcyon.

"You look like you're lost in another galaxy again," Henry says. He hands him a croissant.

Alex stares at him, bites a mouthful of buttery pastry, smiles and shakes his head.

"I was thinking of moving here permanently, like after we come back from this," Alex says. "It would be better for us, I think."

"Yes, absolutely," Henry says, his smile as wide and brilliant as the whole damn universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, writing and posting this fic has been a test of self-worth for me, and part of the reason why it took so long for me to get back to it was because my motivation on it and myself really hit an all time low around the end of October. Also writing while the world was filled with so much uncertainty was just...not good. It takes a village to bring this fic back up. I have so many people I have to thank who supported me and encouraged me to keep on going with it, especially my beta, justadreamfox who has been so patient with this fic! Thank you so much for supporting it, and looking over my work and giving feedback! And to Lise, I know you didn't beta the last half of the fic, but I still love your support!
> 
> For all of you who bought _The Outer Worlds_ because of this fic. Hi, thanks! I guess. It's weird to say that it's one of the greatest compliments I've ever gotten for my fic, but woah, just the fact that some of you spent _money_ on the media that this was inspired is just so...I just can't believe it omg. (Obsidian if you're ever hiring ;). I'll write my next AU on the world of Eora jk...or am I?). 
> 
> As always, the [RWRB: A Gray Area](https://discord.gg/) server is cool. I love every single one of you on that server. And nashira!! Idk if you'll ever read this but I love you and I love how...you supported this and my writing even if you don't know anything about the fandom. Wow, that's like...the greatest thing anyone has ever done for me. 
> 
> To everyone who read this fic, whether you've been here since the beginning or you jumped in around chapter 7, or you're one of those who will binge it, thank you so much for taking interest in this weird space AU. 
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://claremonts-diaz.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr: [claremonts-diaz](https://claremonts-diaz.tumblr.com)


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